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Why. Am. I. Breathing?
Why. Is my heart, beating?

I'm staring at the question
staring back at me.
(Why am I breathing?)

I fog my daze
with smokes and ****.
(Why is my heart beating?)

Why do I have eyes?
All for me to realize.

Tell me once
I'll lose it twice.
(Why do I have eyes?)

My crystal dance -
my only vice.
(For me to realize.)

Why am I moving?
Timelessness is soothing.

Existing as one
time is a maze.
(Why am I still moving?)

I pray I can stay
inside my crystal daze.
(Timelessness is soothing.)

Why is my chest burning?
What is my heart yearning?

Twisted lessons
elysian lies.
(Why is my chest burning?)

Distracted sight
and rooted ties.
(What is my heart yearning?)

Why do my feet itch?
How was my neck bit?

Kisses from the ocean
to the sky above.
(Why do my feet itch?)

Tasted trails of
tasteful love.
(How was my neck bit?)

Embark my empty canvas.
I pray upon the numinous.

New winds need face
for new minds embrace.
(Embark my empty canvas.)

Tuck in my shoelace
for love, I trace.
(And pray upon the numinous.)

Look at me breathing!
Feel my heart beating ?!

I'm staring at the heavens
staring back at me.
(Look at us breathing.)

I clear my gaze
with love and ease.
(Of knowing my heart is beating.)

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
brumous:::of.grey.skies.winter.days.filled.with.heavy.clouds.or.fog.winter.cold.sunless.weather.
quaintrelle:::a.woman.who.emphasizes.a.life.of.passion.expressed.through.personal.style.
leisurely.past.times.charm.and.cultivation.of.lifes.pleasures.
elysian:::beautiful.or.creative.divinely.inspired.peaceful.and.perfect.
numinous:::describing.an.experience.that.makes.you.fearful.yet.fascinated.awed.yet.attracted.
the.powerful.personal.feeling.of.being.overwhelmed.and.inspired.
Ileana Amara Apr 2020
A quaintrelle's heart is precious,
Even more so when it pursues
Not a man to love her, but her own growth.

Passion was its heartbeat,
Enclosed in a rib cage made of forged knives
so that a real man should struggle before it.

For a woman who knows her worth and beauty,
knows well that no one could be irreparably broken
Even when she ironically used forged knives to protect her scars.

IA
Quaintrelle (n.)
a woman who emphasizes a life of passion
clementine Aug 2020
your skin is made of cosmic foliage —
voice that is mellifluous to my ears.
beneath your pulchritudinous image,
you're engulfed in pain for years.

i know you want to go back to those halcyon days.
love, you were irenic to your chaotic mind
because you know no one stays
and loneliness you only find.

you look up at a gloomy night sky
and smiled at a solitary coruscant star.
telling your heartfelt miseries to a butterfly —
you're a walking, breathing and talking scar.

i inscribe this poem to a quaintrelle
whose undeniably sturdy yet frail.
a shakespearean sonnet

— The End —