Tag Archives: heart

puppet

inherently deaf, dumb, and blind

to terror and trauma surrounding me.

thick wooden walls

and silken interior

protect my heart,

a living casket,

walking dead.

pushed aside,

shoved into dirty corners,

death horror hell

mean less here.

my mind rocks to and fro behind iron walls,

alone, staring through an empty window.

bars placed there a long time ago

disappeared,

ravaged and wracked by time herself.

trauma found the key;

stole it from sorrow

who ripped it away from

death himself.

i am here now.

hurting.

millions of shards pierce my

soul.

spilling mi corazon for all to see,

life-giving wine pouring onto the floor,

escaping in droplets which splash

then in tremendous rush,

sprint away from me as if

i were a horrific monster.

i am here.

i am helpless.

formed of only soft yet damned flesh,

yearning to crawl inside my sacred soul,

confused as to why this ache persists…

why this constant earthquake and vortex

threaten my sanity each day.

crippling thoughts flood my mind

whirlwinds twist my heart

draining final drops of wine

to the linoleum floor below

tiled sharply in black and white.

i curl fetally into your heart,

feeding upon your blood in desperation.

thriving on our anaerobic love.

yet this action,

this final thrust of survival,

this dependency upon your soulless heart,

is why my

heart ceases to pump

why

my mind ceases to think.

strings spring from my spine,

shooting upward toward your hands.

you grasp on tightly

as i shudder and exhale,

finally dead within,

alive only in motion

controlled by you.


ravishment

dusky sky soars overhead

clouds slip along

orange flame sinks beneath the depths

of salted oceanic water.

in this misty opaque world

we sit.

a wish whispered in

the near darkness

sent on the back of the

desert wind

captured by a cloud,

carried to your heart

from mine.

a dream brimming with

throbbing desire tantamount

to breathing –

a cardinal desire –

sinful, lustful,

a languishing requisite for

your caress,

your fingers slipping under my

gown  as we

sink further

beneath the sensual waves

of a lustful ocean.

it is here we find ourselves

drowning in desperate

ravishment,

gasping for breath

impervious to all else.

here…

we find bliss.


firefly

steeped in twilight,

flashing orbs of green

and yellow

drift past my window.

engaged in a dance

longing to find

their mate.

a simple

life.

no games

no hurt

no pulling

strings as if

they were

puppet masters.

no shattered hearts,

no broken souls.

just organic neon

flashing in the night.


ghosts of the heart

there are paths

deep within our heart.

All are well traveled and worn.

some carved out.

some  long overgrown.

some riddled with thorns.

some burned beyond recognition.

others well cared for,

soft and waiting

for the return of the

ghost of our heart

who one day

suddenly slipped

away.

a ghost of our heart

we dream beyond hope

will return

to tend this path

alongside us,

filling our hearts

with a

joy more beautiful

than any

fully bloomed

scarlet rose

covered gently

in sweet morning dew.


broken ballerina

she stood

balanced upon five delicate toes

her left leg as straight as the barre

hung with care in front of the mirror,

only vertical instead

of horizontal.

her right leg hung precariously in the air

bent at a perpendicular angle,

toes ever so slightly resting

upon her straight leg.

Arms jutted out straight,

aching to arch over her head,

waiting to twirl,

to dance,

to whirl away.

but there she stayed.

her body straining against physics

against gravity

against demands

against belief

against her heart –

a heart which demanded

freedom

a little more

every day.

her perfect pink tutu collected dust

as her eyes dulled,

her legs paled

and scratches appeared.

finally

her toes broke free.

she tumbled forward,

not knowing where to go,

unable to move her legs,

free falling into the

depths of the unknown.

ever so slowly,

her arms raised above her head

and she twirled,

whirling toward the darkness,

praying for life.

a broken ballerina

seeking freedom

as she tumbled from her

once humble abode.


case of the curious heart

a heart is a curious thing

trapped beneath our chest

beating slow then fast

a touch, a look, a glance,

the right words…

passionate,

happy,

sad.

wistful, wanton, dreaming,

the center of our very souls.

our hearts

fool us sometimes,

trap us, tease us, leave us,

lead us astray.

with them, we tilt, we fall, we stumble.

until one day fate

trips us when we least expect us,

carrying us across lines we never

meant to traverse.

yet here we exist,

still sad, wistful, wanton,

needing the miles between us

to melt urgently.

longing for a touch,

an embrace,

a rejoining of impassioned

spirits long separated by time.

so here we stay,

trapped,

within our own chests,

our hearts sending

an S.O.S.,

desperate for rescue.