PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Take my words. 

Warp them. 

Pry them from my fingertips,

Yank them from my lips,

My throat,

Rip them from my mind.

It feels like I'm falling,

Like I am 

Falling

Into madness, 

Because

When my reflection moves

While I stand in the still air,

Or when the breathing in the night

Is not mine

(And I live alone)

I find that the voices

In my head 

Don't sound the way

They 

Always

Do, and they have new

Names.

They cry out in terror,

"She's Bored! She's Bored!"

Although I have learnt to hoard

My stubborn feelings, wild as they are. 

I keep them locked up in a chest.

But your touch trickles down my spine,

Breath hot against raised flesh,

Flush with passion, 

Desire.

You trace spirit patterns

Across my skin.

Playing your cards close to your vest

While stealing away my every breath,

But

I'll love you still while haunting

All your sleepless wanting nights,

The ones where

I grow resentful of my cage,

Sleek white bones that circle,

Entrapping and binding,

Long grace reduced to 

Unsteady 

Steps

And 

Vanished 

Depth.

I paint my lie, a life,

Onto my face daily,

My brush dripping with paint

As it hangs from my hands,

Pigment

Pooling

Among the grass and dirt

While my mind,

Unusually blank,

Struggles to conjure an image,

Or words.