Heated
Baths of liquid gold on
Skins of alabaster cold
Were the touches
Of her hand
On his body
In his soul

By. Lauren

I do not want to be depressed.
Mom I am trying.
I can not keep apologizing.
I took the blade to my own skin it was not a demon from god.
I'm just trying.
Mom will you listen!?
I can not apologize.
Mom I do not believe.
Why must you say that I brought this upon myself?
Mom god did not send me a devil.
You can not drown my depression in a sea of Jesus.
Mom I brought this upon myself it is all my own mind.
Mom I can not believe.
Not in a god you claim made me this way.
Mom.
I do not want to be depressed.
I just want to be me.
To be free.
Not free from a demon
But free from me.

all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met

friends
family
the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning

i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you

i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously

all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them

and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own

what held
them both
apart

was not a love song
rather a clock

that held
their hopes and dreams
from tick
to tock

From ******* sweet tips
and curve of hip
milky thighs and sighs
of feminine mystique

Its the inner sighs, smiles
and why's,
the mothers touch
that heals so much
the loving reach,
across the breech,
soothes woes of man
she is Woman.

J.C. 09/03/2019

My wailing heart sobs
loudly in my ear
my aching eyes can't
shed another tear
I feel so helpless
looking at your pain
as you slip so slowly
to another plane.

Regrets grow larger
for you and for me
but we can't undo
what was meant to be.

And it's only a moment in time
flying swiftly out of reach
and my grief comes screaming
tearing me apart
no nightmare dreaming
this pain within my heart
and it's only a moment in time
flying swiftly out of reach.

There are nights,
blue sky coming through the window
the last orange of the sun
no longer aglow
when I seek myself.

She is a daughter.
She is a son.
She is the weird and wary night coming in
                                                              ­        slowly.

softly
like an idly turning spinnerette
she awakes.

There is a morning,
fog traipsing through the mountain
around the trees
and to my door
when I see myself.