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ve 4h
she’s still living in a void dimension
forsaken and letter-less.
days have gone by with blink of her eyes,
just like the ink someone marked on her heart

morning bruised her loneliness,
the bloodthirsty night stole the laugh she dreamed of having

she is still hollow,
a house without home,
boats without captain

she is still hollow,
living in a void strange world by herself

she is longing for her vibrant being,
her darkness has taken its quit.
i saw a woman in my reflection tonight.
she stared at me with a challenge in her eyes, she looked like she wanted me to dare her.
she craved my indecision so she could knock it down and build some sure in its place.
her jawline looked like it could bite anyone who said she wasn't good enough. her jawline screamed good enough, great enough. it screamed its beauty. it will not listen to you.
her eyebrows ran free. they remembered years of pulling and plucking and shaping into something everyone wanted, and they sat and sang, defiant, knowing they were right all along.
those eyebrows were ferocious.
her nose held still some child, the only part that wasn't letting go. it still wanted buttons and stuffed animals, it still clung to me.
but she wasn't letting that stop her.
she pulled my eyes down, i saw her torso and shapes.
she was stout. her back wanted me to say she wasn't tall enough, so it could straighten and take up the whole room. it deserved the whole room.
her chest was there, feminine, developed. it didn't care for pressing and pressuring, it said, "here is a woman and she is for all of us. she will fight for all of us."
the shape of her was clear. there was no trickery involved in making her human.
her hair hung forward. it desperately tried to claim some innocence by covering one of those indignant eyes, but that eye just gleamed and glared right on through.
those arms held nations at their wrists, and those fingers itched to point at what she planned to change. she looked like she could wrangle a child, a horse, a life. she looked like she could save you, or anyone.
she was already saving me.
she always was.
definitely looking for feedback and room for improvement on this one!
Brynn S 2d
Those dark cold nights
The ones I held so dear
They dissipate as ends prove near
I was always blind
I fled from the silence
I ran to false profits
Those who gave me solace
A woman of straightedge
Narrowed by the path
Now holding fire
breath in the wrath
Lost in the found
I am poison
Fleeting through time
The hours conclude
The rasping grind
Run to the roses
For the thrones pierced your eyes
Darling of nature
Watch as all lies

With two eyes absent the third appears
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.

Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.

The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..

She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.

She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.

Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Inspired in part by the opening scenes of Vanessa Redgrave in "Howard's End". Addendum: To get even more of the "feel" I had when writing this, try listening to Percy Grainger's "Bridal Lullaby", which plays during this scene:

Lemonade Nov 3
The moment you traveled back to me,
I couldn't love you the same.
I couldn't pick up, just where you left off,
or even couldn't start it all over again.
There wasn't any beginning or end to it.
I couldn't move, it suffocated me.
I couldn't care less, how she was holding you then.
I couldn't find the same old you.
And you weren't my treasure trove of tenderness anymore.
I felt as if my love was temporary,
maybe it was.
You tell me it's all the same,
the daisies you planted,
the walls we painted,
the smell of my hair,
though its new red color glare.
The night-light I bought,
the candles you got.
The books that you read,
the ones I'd like to keep.
And you still like to smell them in indeed.
The places we navigated,
the ones awaited.
The moments we collected,
the ones enlisted.
you still hate socializing,
and humans aren't my special liking.
You're lactose intolerant,
but love ice-creams.
And for me, ice-creams are eminent.

But lovers lie, don't they?
With the frailty of a butterfly

Books for warmth, fading out like old photographs

Antique white skin

Brassy bloodied cheeks

A swarm of dragonflies laces across my face

Ancestry nightfall, ghosts of the drowned

Faded gnarled patchwork,eating away the mind

The thunder,sending me letters

Limbs of this tree growing out of me

Divided  from everyone else

Inside the pinwheel blindfolded
Wading through hours and days

A ***** to this disease

Its only one the one  breath that I will leave behind
I’ve never been the right kind of girl,
Too mean because I don’t smile often,
Too fake when I laugh,
Too skinny because I don’t have *****,
Too fat when I can no longer squeeze into my old jeans,
Too quiet because I don’t voice my opinions,
Too loud when I speak my mind,
Too obliging because I follow orders,
Too stubborn when I make a stand.
You see,
We will never be the right kind of girls,
Nor do we have to be.
We are too much of everything,
That we can’t be labeled,
Put into societally standardized boxes.
Like the sun,
We can’t be contained.
Like a flower,
We can bend with the wind and still not snap.
Like a blade of grass,
We can be trampled on,
And still survive.
I'm not broken
This is who I am now
I'm my own perfect
But he sees me as a broken toy
But still in love with the shattered fragments.
Brittle lady
JJ Inda 7d
"No I don't like that,
But I do like this.
But, it cost too much.
No, that one is too big,
That one is too small!
-I guess that one works,
but do you have anything
a bit darker than this?
Oh, it's all you have...
Alright, I guess this works,
but wait, what about that one!
A woman trying to buy a dress
Darkness, like loamy soil
Paleness, like a lilys petal
Perceptiveness, like a patient coil
And in all things mental
A delicate hand

my love is an attractive man

I open myself up to the truth
On dry, smooth grass
Beneath a tree of yew
Watching pale shadows as they pass

A sweetness so heady
All of my body feels a little bit unsteady

Precise hands brush
my own flushed cheeks
As he whispers to me
the tempting words of poetry

Meticulous, is his devious plan
because my love is an adoring man

Promises filled to the brim
Realism and Romanticism
bind far too well in him

And I wait
But am never left for long
We have entwined our fate
By creation of men and an ancient ***

He gifts me pleasure
I could not have found on my own
Offerings of control
And hidden power,
I now treasure it all

He gives what he can

for my love is a generous man

Beyond the wise words
of prophets and diviners
With him my world curls,
twists and rightens

We are the teachers
and students
of each other
We, creatures both
fluent and attentive
of lovers

His life and mine
are dusted with faith
that our love will face
a manner of temptations sublime
But in truth, our shadows
are more decadent
than any of heaven's hallows

Our bodies and minds are eloquent
The touch of passing is all I need
before my mind spins out in front of me

He meets me there,
in our secret place
where we can disappear
without a trace.

We found ourselves as we ran
my love is a fantastic man
Another love poem, because what else do I write about?
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