deepundergroundpoetry.com
~
...Words from lips are little paper gods so easily torn away, stolen and changed. .I'd rather show you, your meaning to me - Noire Rose (Howlings)
submerged in russian doll
tragedies not meant for
the faint of heart, yet, too
much for one sensitive
soul, to face alone
by the looks of her silence,
one would never
on continual attempt to
reconnect with life and the
relativity to others despite
occurrences
It wasn't - it wasn’t easy
seeing smithereens trickle
down her face, silentium
pulse
"let me take of care of you,
now"
emotionally exhausted
I bathe her: physically
cognitively
spiritually
acknowledged and revered,
allowed expressive
vulnerability
things of gossamer, silvery
threads woven around,
through and through;
breaths of fresh wine and
honeysuckle, she whisper
‘a time ago, I must've
swallow'd the key.. ’
to remind her of her own
beautiful abilities
I'd leave a scatter trail
of poems where tears bled
into cracks and bloomed,
for evermore
otherworldly and elemental,
In her presence, lit candles
would pendulate where
there’s no wind
The only transformer and alchemist that turns everything into gold is love.
The only magic against death, aging, ordinary life, is love.- Anais Nin
submerged in russian doll
tragedies not meant for
the faint of heart, yet, too
much for one sensitive
soul, to face alone
by the looks of her silence,
one would never
on continual attempt to
reconnect with life and the
relativity to others despite
occurrences
It wasn't - it wasn’t easy
seeing smithereens trickle
down her face, silentium
pulse
"let me take of care of you,
now"
emotionally exhausted
I bathe her: physically
cognitively
spiritually
acknowledged and revered,
allowed expressive
vulnerability
things of gossamer, silvery
threads woven around,
through and through;
breaths of fresh wine and
honeysuckle, she whisper
‘a time ago, I must've
swallow'd the key.. ’
to remind her of her own
beautiful abilities
I'd leave a scatter trail
of poems where tears bled
into cracks and bloomed,
for evermore
otherworldly and elemental,
In her presence, lit candles
would pendulate where
there’s no wind
The only transformer and alchemist that turns everything into gold is love.
The only magic against death, aging, ordinary life, is love.- Anais Nin
Published 28th Feb 2022
| Edited 1st Mar 2022
Author's Note
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