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Natassia Serviss Jul 2022
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
I’ve been feeling heavy
Kati B Apr 2010
Spinning and swirling with the winds of change
as the sun shines down on my tired face

Nods and smiles from people passing by
this is my time and this is my place

Who are we if not for our love
what drives life to be worth living

How can we cope with the sands of time
how can we go on without forgiving

So many things that are easy to hold on to
so many tears we never cried

But what fills the voids of empty promises
what relights the flame that has died

If not for ourselves then for who
do we squirm and struggle and fight

We trust in the freedom that  we know awaits us
We must have faith, for this tunnel ends in light
Anna Wood May 2012
My phone rings
At midnight
You want me back; to hold me tight
The last time
You promise
But I've heard that before

You whisper
"I'm sorry"
You didn't ever want to hurt me
But nothing
Seems to
Turn out like we've planned


One
Sorry look in your eyes and
I've
Fallen for your disguise
But baby not this time
'Cause I
Already know where you've been
And my
Whole world's caving in
You just want one moment of us
One moment of love

Years later
You're back in
Town with some new girl in your hand
The whispers
And rumors
You've got a wedding planned

You walk up
My front porch
A quick hello relights the torch
But your heart
Belongs to
Someone else instead

One
Sorry look in your eyes and
I've
Fallen for your disguise
But baby not this time
'Cause I
Already know where you've been
And my
Whole world's caving in
You just want one moment of us
One moment of love

One moment
One moment

I just trusted you
I thought your love was true
But now you've changed forever
Forever
And ever

One
Sorry look in your eyes and
I've
Fallen for your disguise
But baby not this time
'Cause I
Already know where you've been
And my
Whole world's caving in
You just want one moment of us
One short little moment of us
One moment of love
Ethan Feb 2020
So baseball starts soon and pitchers and catchers reported today. This is the most excited i've been since the Kansas City Chiefs won the Superbowl. I know that's not long but baseball is just amazing and an awesome display. Baseball is that sport that you can't run the clock out and don't have total control. Anything can happen in baseball. It's amazing to see the comebacks that can happen. If your the Astros you'll just want to forestall. Baseball is always somebody's passion. Some people say is boring. Others say it is a smart person's game. How can it be boring and lame if all those fans are roaring. Baseball every season relights the same flame.
steel tulips Nov 2015
i still wake up
in cold sweats
from a dream
that was set in hell
a dream
that remembers
hell
as it was,
that night
i found the devil
i still
feel the flames of his hands
licking
my skin
my burns
are still there
though
no one wants
to see them anymore
time
does not
heal all wounds
it just allows
for others
to feel more comfortable
and forget them
gasoline
is embedded in my skin
it was sewn in
with thread made of
sin
allowing for
the smallest ember
in the form
of a possible threat
to hold power
that relights
the inferno
even
if i wasn't really
going to
get burned.
my mind
wanders
when
walking home
in darkness
in a small dress
the ground gets hot
as hell creeps in again
i walk faster
as to not burn my feet
and to avoid
the sight of
that same devil
in the pupils
of some other creep
Jude kyrie Nov 2015
when our children
are lost in their dreams
You asleep lay safe
in the night hours of silence.
I slip quietly downstairs
and sit by the window.
Pour a glass of scotch
and pour its fire
onto my throat.

She dances back in my mind
the only woman I need and want.
Breathing fire hotter
than the whiskey on my throat.

She relights fire in my *****
where it was burning
all that time ago.
Still lay there as hot coals.
A Fire that has burned in me
before in many other lifetimes.

In my head old music plays
once shared with her.
Music of sadness
that is still sugar sweet.

Drowning in the waters
of her darkness
Caught in the memory
of her kisses.

Living inside me
the need of her, the desire.
Wound tighter than
a clockwork spring.


The need that the love
of the wife asleep upstairs.
relieves but cannot unwind.
The one that brings me here
in my shame.

I know one day
she will return for me.
To reclaim her birthright.
red lips and soft cleavage
that my demons want.

She has the key
the power to take me
as she pleases.
She is my fate
my destiny
my drug of choice.

And though I kneel
before you each day
as husband and
father to our children.

You do not know
the truth of me..
When you reach to me
for my comfort.
And I take you in our bed.
It is the flecks of grey
in her blue eyes I see.

I am no more than
an imposter in your bed.
And I know in time
there will be the devil to pay.
She entered my life ... an angel
A gifted and troubled spirit... us two
We banned together..Nikki and I grew.
Her words of poetry spoke to my heart.
As I had made my written story ... come alive...
I received a message from a lover from a news article...
A brilliant voice ended Nikki's beautiful start...
Her spirit still speaks to me
Even after all these years
She was so brave and powerful..
Until Madness took command..
It won the demise of a beautiful hand
She was sent up to the gates of the gold that entered the promise lands
So I talk to her every dark time that this same cruel voice that speaks to me and ended her
She relights my way
I smash the monster away
Now I am the bright and fire lit author
That shines, on, through endless days.
Nikki Bacarach,kevin Michael Kappler,friendships, mental illness
Lawrence Hall Jan 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                            An Electric Light Bulb

An electric light bulb is a marvelous thing
A globe of glass and gas and wires within
You can almost hear the filaments sing
When light upon a page lets your reading begin

By what magic does this wonderful device
Receive invisible aethers from long wires
This strange glowing pearl beyond any price
As it relights from Sol its little fires

An electric light bulb is a poet’s delight
Framing pentameter all through the night
A poem is itself.
They came
From far, and wide
Flying over
Hills, and dales
And mountains as well
Breathing fire
Apart from one
Called *****
His flame
Had left him
Eons ago
It was said
That he'd been doused
Whilst aroused
And lost his fire
Some thought he had
Snuffed it, and was now dead
His real name was Fred
But he had lost his fire
Not his life
Whilst frolicking
With an old flame
But now remains
Burn't out, of any desire
Seeking out the flame
Without the fire
Then before him
Appeared the most beautiful
Of dragon beauties
She was certainly a cutey
Her gorgeous purple scaly skin
And bloodshot red eyes
Left him to mesmerise
And much to his surprise
He felt
He was gently being rekindled
He quaffs more firewater
His dead eyes
Now all ablaze
He ***** his wings
With great vigour
The lady dragon smiles
As she winks
With one of her **** scaly eyelids
Fred bows down
As he feels
Fresh fire fill his lungs
Then in a moment
Of great expectation
He opens his mouth
To emit his flame of desire
Sadly, and tragically
All that comes out
Is a small
Puff of smoke
The lady dragon
For one brief moment
A tiny hint of sympathy
Flashes across
Her now jaded green eyes
She then flies of
Towards a blood red moon
Leaving *****
In disarray
For his next birthday
The lady dragon returns
Bearing a gift
Of a box of matches
As she relights
His lost flame
Sometimes relationships
Just need that little spark!

by Jemia

— The End —