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Theia Rhea Aug 2019
In a drunken haze i stumble through the meadow

Toes entwine with milkweed and purple aster

I fall

Crawling through the tall grass
Vision blind
Dizzy
Dazed

My nail bitten fingers scratch at the dirt
Tasting the soil
Love me
Love me
Love me
I whisper

The birds rustle at the disturbance.

Brilliant, white, beautiful.
They become a frenzy of feathers in the sky.

Blocking out the sun.
taking all warmth.
They swoop down.

Wings, beaks, talons.
They tear at my skin.
Stealing its color.

The breath of their wings have stirred up dandelion fluff

Wishes dance in the air.

I inhale the delicately decayed flowers.

In a frantic attempt to lift me from me self hatred intoxication.

Instead i choke.
Wishes fill me up and I heave
Retching out my insides.
My esophagus, my appendix, my tonsils

My trust, my love, my dreams.
Everything the defines me
I remove
Becoming
Nothing but a hollow skeleton of what was.

I am left there shaking,
raw, ashamed, scared.
Theia Rhea Apr 2019
i never realized
i was holding my breath
that i was suffocating myslef
until I found the words
that allowed me to breathe.
perhaps I (no longer i)  have found my unrealized potential
Theia Rhea Mar 2019
sometimes you have to burn your bridges
even if it means
losing your way
home
Theia Rhea Mar 2019
No one believed her
No one heard her voice
So she stopped talking
Stopped asking for a hand to hold
Stopped hoping that someone
Anyone
Would
tell her it's okay
That she is not to blame
That it is not her fault

So she stepped into the role as hero

She set his world ablaze
Just like he destroyed her
Returning his third-degree burns
That flame she sparked
Held the fumes of her voice
Lost long ago

She does not regret it, even though it hurt

Because sometimes you have to burn your bridges
Even if that means
Losing your way home
Theia Rhea Mar 2019
Ah, I remember her well.

She used to roam the woods brandishing her scepter of sticks
Commanding the creatures of the forest
The blue jays loved her, all the animals loved her, but, especially those blue jays
They brought her gifts.
And accompanied her on all her adventures
And watched her from the branches
In return
She gave offerings of bread and warm milk
And wore their feathers in her hair
Oh my,
her hair was a wild mess
Sticks
Pebbles
Feathers
And Braids
And somehow
That wild tangled mess
Made me smile
She made everyone smile

She took a particular liking to me
I watched over her
but
in reality
she watched over me
Imagine that
a little girl
pep in her step
and sparkle in her eye
taking care of a scarred man like me

We had a trade
a weekly occurrence
A story for a story
A tale for a tale
She would whisper a story filled to the brim with
fairies and trolls
and trees with purple blossoms
and golden roots
I would hand her knowledge about the world

She saw the truth in people
called them flavors
said mine was a cup of hot chocolate
spiked
with peppermint
I once asked her what her truth is
asked her about her flavor
Frosting and moondust
she said
with a smile

Now don't look at me like that,
She had her flaws
Even the most magnificent paintings faded with time.
What happened you ask?
She grew up

And everything changed
The winds didn't carry the scent of honeysuckle
And the crickets never sang.

She cut her hair.
And her smile was guarded
Weighted down by a heavy stone.

The Bluejays observed solemnly from the dead tree branches
As she withered away

The forest no longer hummed
And the town never felt so lonely
Even I lost a piece of me
When she got on that train
Without a wave goodbye

Maybe one day
The creek will chuckle again
And she will come back and
Finish that story
About the king and his butterflies
And I will tell the tale
About the origin of the moon.

But, perhaps that is just an old man's wishful thinking.
~
this is a submission I'm working on to get into a college writing program
Theia Rhea Jan 2019
Gadiaseite ~ gad-EEE-ah-site ~ NOUN
Definition:
The great abyss of the empty page, a wishing well with churning waters so deep you can't see the bottom—only the shimmer of coins shine through, entwined with the efforts of past attempts—you can recover the wishes but only if you hold your breath and dive into the unknown waters.

Etymology:
Derived from the Latin word Gaida meaning waiting and the German word Seiten meaning pages.
Theia Rhea Dec 2018
threw me in the river!
swallowed the lock and key!
tied me up and drowned me!
I was happy as could be!
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