K Balachandran Aug 2017
In many different tongues, each one love's manifestations,
Some even to me unknown until the very moment,expressed,
I keep talking to you, my divine lover,out of my passion,intense
For you brimming within. Distraught a bit, feeling left in the lurch
On pouring rain and thunder storm; but you know how firm I am!
I stood rooted here, lost all sense of time, queer, ever  felt you near.
Then a sharp pain hit weakening my heart ,but couldn't deter me,
I am a cat of nine love lives, a species so stubborn, thrives in trust.
Dead of night it is , I  keep vigil, perking up ears, eyeing  skywards,
How do I know from, where would my only love, to me speak?
Jess Feb 2016
He told me
I was beautiful

O n c e

He told me
I was ugly

Countless times

In every way

His words always sharp
Laughing like a hyena
Circling a wounded prey

His words always cold
Laced with the venom of a snake
Slowly cutting every chord

His words always hollow

With an empty soul
Lost in its darkest thoughts
That he had proven right

But then
He would tell me that

I was beautiful

O n c e

sara 3d
My heart is whole
but it has sharp edges.
It got wet on my sleeve;
now, it hangs from my necklace

-round like a pendant; hurt hangs
round my neck with a vengeance:
like a lighthouse on a dark night,
blinding sailors, offended.

It draws them in like a siren's call,
but the sky bleeds red at the first sign of morning.
The captain is certain he'll lock land at dawn
but does any type of siren sing its song without a warning?
Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning; red sky at night, sailor's delight.
voiDce Jan 22
"you too."

and i cracked,
like thin sheets of ice when you press their center
sharp whispers splinter
under my skin and through my veins

his breath,
soft on my neck, melts the confused corners away
and suddenly i am whole again

but malleable, fluid, and free
Jess Jan 2016
I don't know
What is left of me
Or even
If there is
Anything at all

Ground down to nothing
I am not here
Not anymore

You see
Looking back
I can see

All the signs were there
Over these last four years

Memories can't be trusted
Were they all lies?
Your sociopathic inferno of illusion

Little by little I played into
Your game of chess

Thinking I was an opponent
In good spirits

But only was the pawn
From the very beginning

Spiraled into your manipulative ways
You were the puppet master

Now I see

And now the damage is done

But not
Really ever

And yet
You still find a way
To pour salt in the wound

And you are not
Even here

Just sharp words
That cut me down to size
And smaller
Until I cower once again

My mistake was bowing down
My mistake was valuing
Over  M E

Now I'm left
Deeper in the pit
Damaged beyond return

I am broken

Left less of a being
That I was before
Jeff Gaines Mar 14
Oh, Cardinal
You great scarlet bird.

You hop along my porch rail
But you don't say a word.

So Defiant
Of nature's camouflage.

There is no way to hide
Your bright red entourage.

Bright Orange.
Your sharp pointy beak.

Gathers the worms and the seeds
All the meals that you seek.

Feed her.
This mate that you court.

Such a noble young man
You dance and cavort.

Sing sweet
You and your friends

I'll love your songs every morning
'Til winter comes 'round again.

Your babies
I'll meet them come next year.

When in the spring, they'll alight on my porch
And bring my morning's cheer.

Oh, Cardinal
I'm so glad you're here, you see.

I knew your parents and now you have come
Singing just for me.
I live pretty far out in the country. The birds here are really awesome. I love to go out late at night and listen to the Barred Owl or spend an afternoon sitting in our back meadow to watch the breeding pair of Peregrine Falcons that have a nest in one of our Methuselah oaks.

But every morning as the sun rises and I have my coffee on the back porch ... the Cardinals always seem to be the early risers. Their songs begin with the very first crack of light. They seem to have gotten used to me, as they now land on my porch rail, pretty close to me.

They sing and court mates and sometimes, I swear, they just kinda bop around on the railing and watch ME!

They are simply beautiful and I LOVE having my coffee with them each morning!
I don't cut my skin with sharp objects because i find it fun
Or for attention
Nor because i want to die.
In fact I very much want to be alive.
But because there's pain in my veins.
Pain that wants to escape.
And who am I
To not let it?
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