today's feminine is indeed a rose, but not a blossoming one of exquisite beauty. she cries her petals into her womb, where all her pain awaits release. her black mascara stains her face, but she has no desire to wash it clean: take her stained or leave her, you man, proud and taking.
today's woman ventures out alone, listening, talking, craving the fangs of the rattlesnake, which she - in desperation - hopes will make her connect, and feel again, that which she has lost, had taken from her without consent, which she gave over to the shift that pushed in an unbalanced rift.
today's feminine can bring him inside to unlock what lies in wait to birth a new, longing consciousness. she washes the newborn child with the falling of tears, wipes it clean with her hair, while the Earth and her spirits nurse it full, plump and radiant under the rising sunbeams, where it will grow, and dance later
today, She - the wind - danced with Beloved. She - the breeze - cried on his shoulder, wiped her nose in his sleeve, allowed him to smile into her eyes, kiss her lips with his gentle goodbye. today, She - the sun - poured her warmth into Beloved. She - the rays - opened her void, which previously, in ignorance, had been closed. They danced, and she led, and freed from constraint She gave, and took, took back Beloved. tonight, She - the moon - She - the ground - will walk herself home, despite his offer, yet she will touch his fingertips under her breath until the last possible moment, when she walks off to the dark, breathing him in with a breath out of adieu ...............
It's pretty sad to admit that it never even entered my mind that my blemished skin, asymmetry could be touched with your tenderness, longing, that you could reach between my fragments to fill yourself up with my fire, pull out from me something that you've named respect and, because I see it, I actually do believe you
You can't force a thought, my gut tells me as I attempt to throw a stone in the exact place my eyes fixate upon, as my mind attempts to direct the wispy clouds into a shape of my own choosing, a shape that holds my purpose.
You can't force a thought, a state of mind, just like you can't force wisdom, openness, or stop the judgment, stop wanting to find ways to convince yourself you've done it right...
But perhaps that's not right, perhaps it's more nuanced, and the better (better? - ahem, wiser) way of saying it is, it can't be forced on anyone, but it can be reeled in little by little, word by word,
I left my poetry on the edge of a warzone all scars and jagged skin the letters seeping into the red stained land the air sucked out of them only to end up as a star in the skies.
I told you about the swords the tears and the despair but forgot about the hope and the love they carried in their soul, so I will let you take the torch and set you free, to pen down their life no sorrow will suffice no joy enough, but under the moonlit night your heart must finish what my heart started.
I am just a leaf blowing in the wind, I find no perch in nooks and crannies, I have lost my foothold on reality, I am a thing of legends and myths. Once upon a long time ago, I, too, was a bud upon a virile stem, Surrounded with colours, sounds of melody, I had front seat in the conviviality.
When I noticed my first loss of colour I scoffed it as false alarm. My immortality enthused me With the confidence of a fool. I relished the yellow, With dull orange undertones. It set me apart from The monotone of green.
When the east wind blew I went too far in my exuberance. The moment came and went And I was no longer tethered. The freedom was exhilarating Till I lost sight of a path- I spiraled out of control Out of the shades I had known.
I am a leaf blowing in the wind My past doesn't define me, My future doesn't beguile me, Yet I fly through my fate- My wings of fancy lead me on To an adventure unseen and unheard. Every moment is my victory.