PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Safety or swords

I can’t tell what to call it

somewhere in between

when the scorch takes hold underfoot

and something whispers

I have learned it is this
moment you fly.

We fight fire

with pure simple tears

when this sky cries

and when it gets cold

because infinity has never been warm-blooded

I will build you

all you’ve ever asked for.

Sometimes you look at me

and my life folds into

minutes spent waiting.

Time zones.

Strangers

or seconds

or something like magic.

I didn’t come here

calling it magic

but it has slipped

over my shoulders

just the same…

made me someone

who doesn’t call herself a dreamer

but holds them like her own.

Chapter one

of a story with no name,

we have breathed it

up and up

by being

no more than human.

It is an end somehow

but we will write it

like a beginning.