When dust covers the sky

I cover your eyes

and you cloak me under your hoodie,

warm as hot latté and lovely as lavenders.

You feel drunk in love

and I am drunk in you;

Praising the stars, lying under the tree.

I'm a sun and you my garden

I live for you

And you giggle for me.

I thank the fate,

Because I know it exists,

like the shadow of one’s existence,

like the drone and its queen.

Inspired by

https://theprose.com/post/349486/soulmates

I break and fight

I fight and break

no matter where I go

I am not whole

One day I will fight

Until I break

For nothing can fill

My empty soul.

hearts do many wonders

they pump

mystic music

and allow others to

play our heartstrings

like a guitar.

hearts do many wonders

and mine

speaks

melodies

in my sleep

softly whispering words

to make my mind at ease.

hearts do many wonders

but you plucked my strings too hard

and you poured poison through my ear

so now all I hear are

melancholy mutterings

of “you're worthless”

drowing out

the sweet sounds

of my heart.

it whispers

“please

stop listening to those words inside your head.

i am not broken

for i still have sweet songs

begging to be heard.

please

let me do wonders.”

I was your ocean, washing over your dried and bloody, salt-crusted body. Soothing your burning muscle and bone; seeping to your drowning depths to quench them with my flow and washing away the poisons. Sucking you from the tortured shell, red and blistering in the salt-baked desert, I carried you down, sinking into the earth. Its cooler layers eased your pain. Your eyes showed realisation. I am your salt. Your smile of acceptance completed me.

(Really enjoyed this and it was an interesting thing to do. I love your original, too, which I have added below for context x)

based on.....

Salted Heat

You were the ocean to me. You were blocked by forces we couldn’t ignore till you were released and poured over a cracked and deserted desert that held a single person lying on the ground, dried and bloody. Salt burned my muscle and bone chasing me to the depths of myself as I was drowned by your depths. My eyes closed and my lungs were filled with the poison you were made of. Sinking into the earth and taking me with you all that was left was a rain and torturted shell, red and blistering under the heat.

All the seconds—

minutes, & then hours~

I spend with an energy..

to be on many battlegrounds

It can be used for somethin’-

much more powerful & lovin’,

maybe I will feel whole that way!

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lSRMiC75Vws

#HEURES

20th Oct., 2020 Mardi.

Inspired by SaffiyaSmith’s following post:

‘’i break and fight

i fight and break

no matter where I go

I am not whole’’

#RewriteChallenge

The rolling hills, — green and ever-growing underneath the summer sun, — are perfect: — the place I reside, — yet — can’t help watching the world pass by as the sun fades and darkness consumes my surroundings. I lie with desire of morning dew awakening my course, — to feel the soft damp blades of dawn wrinkle under my toes and a light breeze filtering through my locks, — freeing my soul to write. My world spills forth landscapes with beautiful evenings of fiery skies, — clouds eclipsing; yet magnifying the dieing light in glory, —— truly indefinable by words as visions cry hope. Yes, — my longing :— a stylist painting wonder and imagery that tears within hearts, drawing emotion from the shell of existence because life means more. —— But, — pain is the perfect cell in-which to hide. I lie in my bed staring at my black painted ceiling and wonder, — is it possible to shed the husk of my making, — turning dreams into reality? Or in our torrid times, — is the darkness that whispers hypnotically insurmountable?

Life moves forward and so, —— I will —— too choose more.

whatever you do, don’t think that

these thrones are made of ash;

packed tight like sand castles and

barely strong enough to hold a man

let alone a kingdom.

whatever you do, don’t think that

they carry a stench like death,

or how their builder’s hands are stained red

and you can tell by the fingerprints they left

streaked along these polished marble floors.

whatever you do, don’t think of

pillars they made with the spines

of broken and beguiled lambs.

vertebrae stacked ceiling high despite

cracks that spider throughout the bone.

whatever you do, don’t sit in those thrones

don’t claim a power you can never own.

this palacial necropolis - gray and dark and

tasteless - we find a gravity well in ashen seats.

a quicksilver cushion built for nothing but greed.

[ajsdfhlkjsadha i forgot to put the reference post]

https://theprose.com/post/381625

There are some days that I wake and breathe and the ground meets my feet. I can look at a day and smile from the shadows of the morning. There are some days that aren't as hard as I thought they should be. Or could be. Or would be.

Some days that I can't breathe. Can't focus. Can't see through the grey.

Mornings, and afternoons, and nights, when all I can do is think of the next day and how ugly my world will still be, as I stare at the cracks forming under my shaking hands.

There are mornings that are choked with guilt;

Afternoons that are drowned out by tears;

Nights that are mauled by muffled screams.

All I can manage is to wait for the next sunrise ...then sunset, wishing for everything else to disappear.

I watch the light fade.

I watch the world fade.

I watch time and myself fade.

Everything I am: a thread slipping through my fingers.

And I chase the tread and I watch it slip.

Original:

"sometimes it isn’t as hard as I thought it would be

sometimes I can lift my head in the morning

I can breath

I can smile

I can imagine the rest of the day being enjoyable

some afternoons all I want to do is cry

some afternoons all I can do is cry

I can’t breath

I can’t focus

I can see my hands tremble to reveal the internal cracks

some nights my throat is chalky with guilt

some nights I want to scream and kick

I can’t sleep

I can’t dream

I can only think of how bad it’s going to be tomorrow

some days....all I can do is wait till the sunsets

some days...all I want is for everything to disappear

I watch the sky

I watch my word

I forget time

I forget myself

because everything I am hangs on a thread slipping through my fingers

and all I do is spend my time chasing the thread

and watching it slip from my fingers"

I hate these days.

Where breathing means I'm still alive.

Where the act of taking in a single breath of air means that I'm too much of a coward to end it.

But maybe - maybe just maybe - if I stay here, behind my walls, quieter than a mouse, stiller than a rabbit in a grass, nobody will notice the thoughts. If I don't disturb the water - if I don't touch over there - maybe I won't cry on the bus. Maybe I won't break down in front of everybody I swore I wouldn't break down in front of.

Maybe if I did better, felt better, got better grades, got a better sleep schedule, woke up at a reasonable time - maybe if I stopped daydreaming, maybe if I actually did my work - then I could breath. Then every breath wouldn't be painful, every breath wouldn't be my silent scream, my desperate voiceless cry of pain.

Maybe if I was a better person -

Maybe if I just stopped.

But I can't - but I want to - and the divide is painful. I want to continue living - life is beautiful, life is pain, but the pain is what makes life so beautiful - but if I stopped.

There would be no pain. No beauty, no pain.

And I want to stop thinking - God that is my curse. To be given a brain so constantly analysing everything it delights in psychoanalysing itself to sickness, where my only redemption is to become addicted to becoming other people and living other lives, just to escape the infinite barrage of thoughts.

I don't stop, I can't stop, but I want to stop.

You sensed it was a bad day.

It didn't take more than thirty seconds.

I'll never understand how you did that.

It's like you're watching me in a way no one has ever before.

You made my day better.

You didn't leave me -

Every time you saw me

You gave me a hug.

In front of your friends

In front of mine

In form time.

You made me feel watched.

You gave me the ability to breathe.

Yes you made me cry with your song choice

Don't ever play something like 'You will be found'

I don't care what my mood is,

I will cry

I will fall

I will break

But that day - you made it okay.

You made it okay for me to have emotions.

You made it okay for me to be overwhelmed.

You made me breathe.

You gave me the distraction I couldn't give myself.

You gave me the chance to breathe

And for it not to feel like a death sentence.

And it's not that I can't breathe without you

(I was far too independent before I met you for that to ever be an option)

It's just that you make breathing easier.

More fun.

(Yes I could probably blame you for my horrendous sleep schedule)

But I don't care.

'And without you I am still here -

I am far too stubborn to go'

That is what I wish I could say, at least.

Without you I wouldn't be here -

That I can say for sure.

Because my sheer stubborness and determination can only last for so long,

And you have that sweet little habit

Of knowing when I'm trying not to fall apart

And just pausing when I go silent because I'm blinking back the tears

Because I don't cry in front of anyone.

I don't have feelings in front of anyone.

I don't talk to anyone.

(About anything serious anyway)

But I can fall apart in front of you

And you can put me back together

Just by your presence.

I don't know what I'd do without you.

At the minute, I might survive?

But I doubt it.

I'd fall.

I'd fall and there'd be no one here who knew me well enough to pick up the pieces.

...

(Apologies I have no idea what this turned into, I think I ended up just taking one of your poems @SaffiyaSmith - which are great, by the way - and slotting it into one of my worst days recently. Sorry about that.)

Source: https://theprose.com/post/367565/just-breathe