orchard solace. between the lines
apple trees laden
the moon ripe
almost in reach as the author walks
words to taste like cider
from a solo cup
alone pressed in thoughts
blind lace. the loss of sight
was a path not a destination
piercing senses climbing higher
simple ripples turn to devastating rogues
shaking and playing
eyes covered and yet
all she sees is how he knows her need unseen
neck grace. twitch and bend
with the lift of her eyes meeting his
a gold line fine flowing down
fishing for star-kissed wishes
the mercy of which found below
the touch of silk falling to frame
her laugh caught
a pendant charm glowing in neon edges
subconscious muse. dreams fold within
layers of imagining
kindling inspiration and buried thought
words form
whencenot whatnot from origination
flowing to rise like a seed breaking
from deep to surface
a revelation of beauty thriving
inception to reality
predictive touch. his soft graze presses
tracing slow skin and smile
understanding to learn
at the same time teaching
reaching to share
experiencing
every meaning of her existence
Some of us never really
move on,
we just grind it into
syllables that moan,
rearranging the ache
of what broke us,
by hacking ruin into rhymes,
and calling it poetry.
~𝓜
You know damn well…
I’d set my own heart on fire,
to choose you,
chasing you through the inferno of my own collapse.
You know damn well…
l'd set my own heart on fire,
to pull you from the dark,
torch my own dreams to light your way to save every piece of you.
You know damn well…
I'd set my own heart on fire, char every shred of me to help you, because loving you is my obliteration.
And still, I'd set my own heart on fire…
not once, not even twice,
but in every damn breath, because some love is worth burning in the ruin.
~𝓜
take my hand, little one
a secret dances between
an exorcism of thought
and a fusion of ferocity
her mask never hides
needs blossoming
where heat and pressure
obey the laws of nature
a radiant glow within
hidden from view
until her wild night
begins to strain
against its bonds