I must stop having
Panic attacks in the dark.
It never hurt me.
It is in the dark
That men like to wound the world;
But night was meant to be calm.
The coolness of night
Was intended to restore-
Men corrupted it.
And now I will sleep
Clad in many soft shadows
Protected by God.
Someone doing the dishes
To surprise their mum
Pokes holes in your heart,
And you bleed adoration
Then you are in love.
Do you ever find yourself quoting your own writing?
I mean, mentally. Maybe some word or phrase triggers a line of writing that surfaces in your conscious from some deep storage place in your brain, and you recite it in thought, and then you go, “Wait just a second, I wrote that!”
Or am I the only one whose poetry crops up in her head repetitively and rudely, quite without an invitation?
Wolves that snap enclosed in black
With rolling eyes that shiver.
Numbing bones that jump and groan
By knobby legs that skitter.
Orange peels of fleshy teeth
Glimmering gold and silver;
White and black, prepared attacks
Of vibrant, scalding fever.
Rainbows dance in colored tunes
Of fizzing, static daydreams.
Snarky laughs and wildfire gasps
Encapsulate a room.
Calls me in so sickly-sweet.
“You can’t afford to turn away,”
It hisses, haunting me.
Ignore the light, ignore the day.
Nothing is real except the fear
It burns inside
An acid in my heart
Too late, I took the poison
It’s curled up, hissing.
Drifting smoke bleeds
From my nose
Can Love stop the ache inside?
The bones around your heart are cinders
Embers that will never die
Unless the Enemy’s taunts are lies…
It’s sort of funny
All the love poems I memorized
To keep my heart in tune to you;
All the ink I so carefully massaged into my veins
So that my pulse would remind me of you
All the words that were of you
Are gone. I can’t quite recall them
And my spine
Still sticks out like broken pottery;
With the rest of my bones
And their proclivity
To be visible;
But I have gained six pounds
And grown an inch
And my appetite no longer vanishes
Because of your cologne.
My hair is just as long, and darker
It waves from my braids
Something I taught myself while
I was gone from you.
My room is empty of memories
It’s clean now, and cold
I no longer feel jealousy
Twinge inside me
When a girl walks in who is beautiful
Instead, I smile
Because there is so much beauty in the world
And I am part of it now;
I do not belong to you.
I belong to someone Higher.
I am weightless
A burden has been lifted from me
And it is easier now
I have not written since we parted;
Though like as not the words still started.
But quill uninked cannot create.
And ink bleeds out when broken-hearted;
So all my thoughts abate.
Now writing then, do I declare
A misery no longer there?
Or do my words in fact call up
a step of grief entrenched, revenge?
Or is it all of the above?
A silver laugh, the moon is kind
It thinks my heart is silly, too.
Rest now, it bids, and later find
A love more true than this one lost.