And then they shake and cross your boundaries
Seem so fragile you don’t dare to breath it in
But you don’t wanna break their limbs
Neither keep them upon your skin

It takes up space in all the wrong ways
Evaporates
The price that I pay
It’s alright that I change
It’s alright that you stay

Once upon a time I visited Hades
Just for a week, something like that.
I don't quite remember how I found the way down.
And I was supposed to be a prisoner, of course.
No one wants to be confined. I didn't.

But I was fed. Reassured, I signed the forms, still woozy,
and frankly then I was somewhat ignored
but there is so much unexpected liberty in captivity
if it's the cage you yourself have chosen
and that made all the difference. So I rested.

I planted grains there, buckwheat, barley, arborio
knowing I'd return to spring soon, also knowing now
that hell is temporary, that it just happens sometimes.
That my mind is sometimes lost and found again
like a train of thought, or an acquaintance's name.

And then I left. I've been back to the underworld
here and there throughout the years,
when I needed or wanted to visit with my demons.
But I don't need to stay- I just harvest what I've been growing,
nourish myself, rest a bit, replant, wave to Hades. And go home.

i’ve done it again -
i know not why.
with tethered wings,
i sought to fly:
my feathers dye crimson
in the grips of disquiet;
a sworn enemy now,
though once an ally.

i fight the urge
to be myself.
yet, sometimes -
i get overwhelmed
by a sense of futility,
so strong, and lovely;
i’d trade the world for,
and all its wealth.

i hurdle through life
with a beacon un-flamed -
a blackbird through seasons,
with a spirit untamed.
i urge for someone to
light the torch,
so i may sew - the
verses i maimed.

and though i’m weary -
but not for worse;
i must prepare to die again.
tonight, i chase the truth -
for tomorrow -
i must lie again.

I was trapped, but
as noisy-quick triggers burn
adult options wait, smoke-obscured

Now I have agency

I was naïve, but
as searing-shame echoes blush
tenure-chastened growth sprouts verdant

Now I have wisdom

I was wounded, but
as oily black trauma smears
injure-blemished skin heals tougher

Now I have scars

I was confused, but
as guileless young stories waste
lesson-laden tales are woven

Now I have clarity

I was in danger, but
as painful new learnings flow
hard-won armour fends when needed

Now I have shielding

I can decide,
and I know
I am strong
in clear-eyed
protection

I am grown

i did not lose, nor did i win this year.
i only made sure that i would make it.
and though i did, i would not be dancing in glee now.
for deep down in my heart,
that is not a win for me at all.
night after night, day after day,
i drowned in tears ,
but every struggle shattered,
changed me.
i am in so much more pain and rage now;
i want the state of oblivion
in my subconscious mind back.
only i would not wish that because
i have finally patched up the wounds
that my messed-up brain has inflicted
onto my torn heart.
therefore 2024,
the very definite definition of winning
is not the same as winning an Oscar or a Nobel Prize
as defined in the dictionary;
it differs when compared to fighting against
all the odds in life and/or for your life.
but, i believe that..
winning can sometimes mean losing
in the context of objectivity
in life’s entirety,
so we could find a solid footing
in the daily, weekly, and monthly moments
of struggles and challenges
that have made us weak and vulnerable this year.
...
as i wrap everything up this year,
all that i have to say is:
life is not a competition or a race;
for if it were, it would be humanity’s
most futile and mirthful one.
-boonthemoonluv

She unravels herself like a rose  
In the palm of my hand.  
Some of her petals break off  
And lay to the side
The pain of growth,  
Making room for something new.  

She looks me in the eye,  
The tension of letting go  
Of reasonable fear.  
Too many lonely nights.  
The crescent moon of every lie  
Hovers over her head.  

Piece by piece,  
She's laid that insecurity in my hands,  
That uncertainty in her eyes,  
Slowly turning into trust.  
Seeing that I didn’t discard  
The pieces of her that flaked off,  
In my hands.  
Regardless of how bad they look,  
They are a part of her.  

She twists and she turns,  
Her thorns piercing my skin,  
One after another.  
With confidence, I don’t have to tell her  
That I am not afraid.  
But I do so anyway.  

The crescent moon that hangs  
Above her head fills out  
And becomes full.  
As comfortable as she seems,  
Fear still lingers.  
No matter how much she  
Lets go,  
She's been let down before.  

In time, my hands will become  
A vase that will protect her from harm,  
And my heart a place  
That will warm her always.  
When the day comes she knows,  
With certainty, that I am not afraid,  
I will still tell her
I am not afraid

No longer will I apologize
For the ragged edges of my Soul.

For I am
Wind. Fire. Earth. Water. Ether.
Elements which within I won't control.

Ravenous and beating wild,
Always enough;
My strong, yet tender heart.

For all these things
To be known as both
Moon and Sun

- For being Me -

I'm sorry aren't words
I'll whisper anymore.

©KSS 12/2017

Be silent. Listen. Breathe. Easy enough to say, but much harder to put into practice. Sometimes I talk to fill a void. I talk to avoid having to feel the weight of silence like judgement, so I don't have to go down deep and see what actually lives there. Help me deal with my emotions, help me feel my emotions, especially those that are uncomfortable or unnatural to me. Be silent. Listen. Breathe. Maybe the hurts and sadness, the hungers and scars deserve to be recognized for what they are. They are part of life. The help me know and feel I am alive. They help me remember and be more grateful for the many wonderful blessings I have in my life. There is a time for talking, but now it is time To Be Silent. To Listen. To Breathe.

I spoke to you last Friday,
Lights dim and skirts brushing the floor.
You were wearing folds of blue,
Clad in pleats and flowers.
We talked about nothing of importance,
Pockets and converse and models.
I kept waiting for that recognition,
The twinge in my chest I always feel.
I didn't feel it.
I looked at your face, heard your voice,
Eyes shadowed with sparkle.
I didn't miss you.
I remember our late-night chats,
Endless conversations just like this one.
I couldn't see that girl in you.
I wonder, I can't help it,
If you felt that way as well?
One thought stuck in my mind,
A question you will never hear;
When you were choosing your dress,
In a colour I always loved on you,
The shade of blue I say you've always shone in.
Did I ever cross your mind?
Did you think of me?
Did you remember my praises fondly,
Remember the colour I loved you to wear?
I kept thinking of that dress after that,
Of our first conversation since you left.
I miss that girl.
But I don't miss you.
I think I could be friends with you,
The girl in the light blue dress.
The girl I used to know.