I read this quote on Pinterest the other day; “The moon, even in all her phases, is still whole, and still beautiful”, and I loved it.

We are whole.

We are whole, even if we don’t feel like it.

We are an entire soul, even if it feels like we’re broken.

There’s beauty in the shadows of the moon too.

There’s beauty in every inch of us.

We might not be able to see it, but it’s there.

It’s there.

We are lovely.

We are beautiful, inside out.

***

This excavated angst,

a demonic resurrection—

oh, how I wish

you’d stayed buried...

***

#poetry

#micropoetry

The memory of your fingertips

Brushing against my skin

Sends shivers down my back

Like a breath of cold wind

The heat of your mouth

Pressed against my neck

Gives me no reprieve

And leaves me a wreck

Fingerprint bruises

Freckle my thighs and arms

Tracing your path,

To right where you are

Far within a forest,

Lined with crimson trees,

There lies a deep cave

Stretching for miles and miles,

Lit from the glow of gentle crystals,

It goes on and on

Along the stone walls

There are markings,

Carvings from a different age,

Each with a story to convey

Legends of old, eras of myth,

Times when gods ruled

All kept through the drawings

Of those who lived through

Records of a time,

Once known,

Now lost

The images will always be there

To remind

It is in this cave,

Surrounded by trees of crimson leaves,

That these precious memories

Will forever remain

standing outside,

I turn and feel a strong gust of wind blow suddenly

on my face. And something new

rises within me, washes over me like a wave,

cleanses me, again

& again &

again.

there’s a spark that

electrocutes through me

a gasp

a shivering breath

music that tingles

through my senses

your voice on my skin

tracing a thousand feelings,

through your kisses, on my soul

stars spilling through your

smiles. warmth.

and i am tumbling and falling to you

like the earth to the sun.

with no escape from this fate.

you kiss my lips, and we disappear

soft light filters into the room as we vanish into one

as bodies turn lovers and clothes turn sheer

our lips are tainted with lust and beer

and our atmosphere shifts into the shades of a rosy sun

you kiss my lips, and we disappear

a hazy feeling of love settles in as we persevere

but i feel as if we’ve just begun

as bodies turn lovers and clothes turn sheer

you become both my body’s bidder and auctioneer

tracing each part because you’ve entirely won

you kiss my lips, and we disappear

as our pace quickens there is no fear

because time and worry, we outrun

as bodies turn lovers and clothes turn sheer

i don’t know if we will ever reappear

because you have me so utterly undone

you kiss my lips, and we disappear

as bodies turn lovers and clothes turn sheer

from the embers

glowing in the dark forest

from the dimming raging flames—

the ashes of my heart emerge

he picks it up

cradles it inbetween

his hands. like treasure.

delicate.

he moulds and shapes

the lump of grey ash

curves the edges until the

sharps edges are gone

pats it with the tips of his

fingers till the cracks are filled

and when its done

he places it in the hole

of my chest

and with a pulse

and with a thump

I am whole again.

thank you.

if love is such an imperfect thing, doesn’t it

have holes, doesn’t it leak?, I wonder after

being rejected by you & left alone

to my thoughts. memory is an eternal car ride,

memory looks through windows

without seeing trees, memory continues on. my

mother’s words refract off the surfaces

of my thoughts, bounce back to her, she

swallows them. I cannot listen. if these apertures

exist, where does the love go

as it leaves me?

where can I go, now. radio is a funny thing

in that it speaks through my indifference, feels like

the beatles are singing to only me. I press replay, imagine again

looking into your eyes, saying it a million different ways;

maybe it would have gone differently if I had sounded sincere.

maybe I could have said, (if time means anything), nearly two years

it’s been. twenty-three months it’s been, that’s seven hundred days

of building up these walls, so why couldn’t I just

tell you?

my mother is silent, the radio is silent, the cars rush forward

in the same direction, we all have places to be. after you said no

I could see only the hem of your shirt, & then your shoes, & then

a spot on the linoleum floor. and I could see bits of my love,

like particles of dust, leaving my body and spiraling downward. rejection

was too predictable; I had built storm shelters hoping the hurricane

would not come. & when it came, I stood there in disbelief, unable to

shield myself from that deluge. remember, I prepared myself for this, so why

does it hurt?

getting out of the car is the hardest part, but when I do,

my body feels lighter, as if all that had been trapped inside

has been freed. it flies into the sunset like so many doves,

for a moment it leaves, for a moment the colors dull

and the walls crumble. but as I walk back inside, my love

surrounds me again, promises to stay, holds me more firmly

than your arms ever could.