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Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
It’s so sweet,
how you held my hand in yours
and I could tremble inside.
It was a basic touch.
Not at all very much,
but I could feel your warmth,
your fingers caress my hand
as I surrendered to the dreams of you
that night.
And a new revolution ticks over.

Begin again.
Brighter and stronger as a flame,
you are drawn to the light.
This cycle, I can feel your lips meet mine.
The gentle press of your mouth, slowly
quickening as of a new blaze.
It was a larger gift than I foresaw,
but it left me aching, desiring more.
We are both not left wanting at all.
Tick, and a new revolution greets me.

To begin again.
You cradle me in your arms,
tight and close and I never want to let go.
Feathery touches tracing my body,
up and down you caress,
as soft yet powerful as spider’s silk.
We kiss and it leaves us out of breath.
I’ve never wanted you like this before,
leaving me craving for what’s in store.
Before a revolution takes hold.

A fresh morning, a new start.
I seem to float beside you;
you leave me drifting after you,
a ghost still attached to its haunts.

You are still as warm and beautiful as I remember.
You still leave me laughing and my
soul singing like no one has before.
But it strips me down to the core,
waiting for a new revolution again.

These little revolutions.
New cycles happen all around us,
to us;
weaving, pulling, cleaving and breaking;
lifting, strengthening, soothing and exciting.
All these little revolutions.
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
Restless days,

torturous nights.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

always clicking over in my head.

Snap to one image,

snap to the holiday you gave me,

snap to the dinners and treats,

you temptingly placed before me.

Fading hopes,

nightmares rising in the daytime.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

I confide in you what happened.

Why I’m always cold when

you reach to touch me.

Why I always patiently wait

for you to want to touch me.

Why I always wish to say

something but I hardly whisper instead.

And how it broke us.

Lasting, loving smiles,

darkening gazes and empty silences.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

I shared as much as I could.

I gave you whatever was

left over, still mine, not theirs.

You fell for me, I know you did.

Showered me with silken kisses,

steamy nights,

in all my curves

you found something beautiful.

Me on top, you

lulled me with sweet words.

I was like no other.

Fanciful dreams,

a bruised and aching reality.


Always thinking.

Click, click, click,

You made me want you, so badly,

because you believed I was good.

You handed me golden platters of

worth, passion;

I could finally acknowledge the shape

confidence takes.

It walked beside me.

I was foolish to place this charge in you.

Click, click, click,


You promised you would always

be there.

You phrased such blissful melodies.

You wanted to be with me through anything.

You said that.

Why did the tide turn?

How do you go on pretending,

deceiving yourself,

when you said those exact words.

I heard you.

I heard you every night onwards.

I don’t believe you wanted to lie to me,

but you did.

You tore those stitches out,

thread by thread.

When you walked away,

leaving me turning to stone

in the freezing night air.

It whipped me, beat me and still

you didn’t look back.

Only now can I go to sleep,

knowing I don’t have to see you


behind my eyelids.

I don’t crave you anymore.

Is it the same for you now?
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
How do we speak to each other?

How do words become a universal language?

How do we explain ourselves if we can never speak for each other?

A gentle kiss, quickening, deepening before its lost,

a warm smile but a whispered laugh.

A heart so light but a body so tired.

You unfurl for me, a bud springing open on the morning breeze,

palms open and eyes exploring,

so fragile yet so terrifyingly strong

it blinds me,

it shakes me,

it unearths the roots i worked to bury for myself,

it wounds me to falter before you.

You bare your soul,

a mirror uncovered despite the dust in the air.

it stands before me,

I can see myself stripped before you too.

you allow the light to drip down,

bathe you in vulnerability,

and that is a strength I can only look at in wonder.



too brilliant it hurts to be the one to shatter your glass.

You feel me trace

your face,

fingers graze along your lines,

leaving cracks where I touch.

I know i’ll never open myself to you.

I know i’ll never unfurl like you have, because



I don’t know what to expect.

of you.

of me.

I feel the longing warm the glass.

you want me

but i can’t provide.

I can provide for others,

who pierce my skin, eagerly fumble with my clothes,

press against me fiercely to absorb what they need.

but for you i feel too adequate,

too humble,

I know i do not crave your touch,

I feel

in a cavern where i safe-keep my heart, my feelings;

that I can provide only what a friend might offer,

only insight and best wishes.

I cannot feel like perfection bundled in your arms,


I feel

my being beat against my walls

screaming that it isn’t my place to be there

in your arms.

I cannot linger in your light,

i don’t want to trail my dark ink,

thick and clotted,

across that golden shine.

I only want comfort for us.

I only want that burst of sunshine

dripping gold and gems and diamonds,

of when we meet and explore the people who were meant to hold us,

embrace us,

coat us and touch us, whisper and laugh and cry before our outstretched

arms to one another.

to be the lovers to us that we desire.

to be the safest


to be the safest shelter we could ever find amid a burning field.

the people we were designed to allow to pick apart the cobwebs, the

bruises, the joy and the

darkness we all carry inside.

I want to feel that.

I don’t want to see you break into pieces at my feet.

I don’t want to see shards of something so beautiful.

we want to be worshipped.

to feel we could walk on broken glass so long as

you were there to hold us tight at the end of the road,

to make us smile without even thinking

to make us burst without reasoning to.

to not even need words, explanations to others, gestures,


to not even need to think about how we look.

but I don’t think my love will kneel before you and worship the thought

of holding you.

does that make me horrible?

why do I feel like I’m burning?

can you belong to someone while you wait to hopefully,



decidedly belong to another? the one you need to belong to.

Is it cruel to wait and play and tease,

knowing this,

or is it crueler still to break them open?

to make them fall away from you, to fear you, to make them taste the sour


of you

instead of dragging them behind you in chains they want to bare.

How do you know all this?

or are you simply deceiving yourself?

where are you?

where am I?

Cold, damp, broken surf washing over my feet.

salted like tears.

Except I know they are mine.

I know you are still that beautiful golden mirror,

I keep

in my cavern

tucked away.

I know you stay behind a dusty, ***** sheet.

but right now I need to turn from this place






please, release yourself from me

and be free.
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
a shimmer,

a jagged edge, a blade of deep orange

piercing through the darkest blanket of sky.

glowing warm and bright,

tendrils of russet, gold, and light


like silk

through glorious wings, graceful


majestic and deadly.

Glowing hot,

fire spreads along your body,

branches from wings

embraces the night and curls upward,

elegant arcs,

licking flames,

bird in flight ablaze with heat.

your movements are swift,


creatures kneel before your eyes,

agile and graceful you are.

you blaze the brightest in the dark.

you scorch the earth and rise in each coming dawn.

you swoop and rise, a dance all your own.

you unfurl and embrace the horizon.

you burn hot despite the cold.

you glide above reach, climbing mountains and melting ice,

floating free of all vice.

one thing you mustn’t forget.

your flame is eternal, it hides your pain and tears,

it fills you,

it outlines your strengths, builds your beauty, strengthens your limbs.

there is no sky you cannot reach.

there is no darkness you cannot light.

you will never lose this essence.

no matter what fate you chase; world that breaks; flight that falters;

wounds you take; night that

lasts; shadows that rise; voids that fill; dreams you make…

you will always burn best within yourself.

your wings will always branch out to catch you.

he will never take that from you.

he will never douse your fire.

you are fire.

so blaze ferociously.

burn and shine.
sophie Jun 2016
your imperfections
are not testaments
to your lack of existence
they are proclamations
of your absolute reality
you are whole.
gray rain May 2016
The more you do to correct yourself:
the more attention you bring to your flaws.

You're the greatest critique of yourself.
If you stop judging you,
people will have to live with who you are!

In return you become stronger,
admired for your pride.

Not torn down by opinions
you make based on how
society is standardised...

so all benefits are erased when
self-acceptance of flaws is achieved.
You will not be torn down
because you're too strong for them...

and you stand above what is thought of you
because only you can make yourself rise above them.
Vamika Sinha Mar 2016
the magazines tell me
is a ***** word

like my bare skin
is some kind of rebellion.

i have laid no foundation.
no mascara on the windows.
so they find my architecture

yet I think my home
is beautiful.
because it is home.
my skin.
my nature.

i hear them whisper
'natural' is a ***** word -
and you don't say those out loud.
do you?
i have felt and still feel insecurity about not having a perfect face or a perfect body or perfect makeup or a perfect aesthetic.

***** it all, i say
Vamika Sinha Mar 2016
snow was brittle, i found
fresh white paper
crinkling under

snow was fragile, i learned
like shredded glass
but softer

like all my edges
as they really are
not how
i see them
I write more poetry on a blog called La Vie en Rouge - (
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