Isla - Hello Poetry

Isla 15h

Pillow

Pillow, plush
Shield me - smother me
Pillow which knows my soul
Swallows screams
Will you take them too?
Those emotions which claw?
Scream, “feel”
Cry, “feel”
Laugh, “feel”
Rage, “feel”
I say, “feel”
I try
I delve hands into depths
Reaching for them
Like water, my fingers slip through them
Like nothing -
Emptiness
More they shrink
Further they fall
“But I cannot reach you!”
Can I find them again in the dark?
But what if they drown in my watery touch?
What will happen?
If I let go of what has already slipped from my fingers.

Isla 15h

What it is to drown

When it rains I see you.
In the sky's silent tears you breathe
With each drowning breath you fly
Freedom is the rain
A misting sigh
The smothering of life
And death
In the drenched ground are your eyes
In the swollen lakes is your love
In the sparkling drops is your smile
Dry in a drowning world

When the ocean swallows me whole
I feel your hands cup me gently
Our heartbeats synced with the ebb and flow
With you, I am no longer drowning in each breath
I no longer sink
I cannot hold myself under with you pulling me up
The first breath hurts
But your warmth breathes into me
For with you, rain cannot drench through
With you I no longer sink through unsteady ground
In lakes I float
The sparkling drops are sunshine's proof

I once believed the rain to free me
That peace was found in drowning
But when the rainy tears had dried
And my eyes were unblurred
I no longer saw you in the rain
I just saw, you
I thought drowning freed me
But only with you am I free
And in you?
I will never drown

Isla 15h

Pleasure and Pain

Pleasure and pain,
Where woeful is nought.

Quick to anger,
A spark and a thought.
Tip the scales with wine and pills,
The stones they throw are complacency’s ills—

Soon the stones will heavy your pockets,
The scales are dry and cracked.
Ripple the water to hide what you lack
Muddy the river, wine bleeding black.

But the river runs slow, and the night is long,
How much weight till the current takes hold?
Breath like a whisper, heavy heart of fools gold
Drowning in each of your stories untold.

Yet as you grow weary,
In that warm, sweet dark -
The hum of a lullaby sings true as a lark
Sweeping away final thought and final spark

Alas,
Pleasure is pain,
And woe is it’s mark

— The End —