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jaziimun.wordpress.com jasminventory.wordpress.com Labels: beginnings, endings thing about me was the emotion on my face? Art pieces being realized as shades of colors fade into one another - the hues of thematic 'to love yous'. Or a graphed curvature of lips and eyes where two points meet and split over and over in patterns predicting the trajectory of us. It doesn't matter anymore though, whether it was you or you then. I have seen in the lawful depths of my universal soul murky and blurring at the edges in tangling wisps you. It was you I saw in my dreams last night was it not? The same, only better because you knew enough to love me and say so or maybe it is me who has changed and know enough now to love me. Labels: my poetry in the most mundane of documents on the most tedious of topics. when identified by a singular emotion it is too easy to push away and decide on something entirely different despite understanding balance. how long has it been? the erosion of parted lips releasing breath in contented sighs sensual and spiritual. erased by lapping darkness stealing pieces away with each undulation and carried into the middle of somewhere nobody has ever seen but everyone knows. i will graft roots of loveliness into shifting sorrow and drop anchor into deep joy by raising a salute to faithfulness. a reminder to myself today to smile often in the most mundane of days on the most tedious of topics with ever a hint of red. Labels: my poetry closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettier less volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel him travelling away from you in his dreams so what did you want to do, love split his head open? you can’t make homes out of human beings someone should have already told you that and if he wants to leave then let him leave you are terrifying and strange and beautiful something not everyone knows how to love.”
Labels: Warsan Shire or at least, where we think forwards lies. until we round the bend anticipating the roar of rapids and a waterfall only to find the ripples we created at the last corner meeting us, splashed in the face by the determined kick of before riding the tail end of after. the fate of floating in circles in a small pond. i don't quite know how to say how i feel. those three words are said too much they're not enough. what is today from tomorrow if they are covered in the same memory stains? what is yesterday from today if the colors have bled off the page and mingled into blurred scenery and fuzzy spots of light the way nights look in the rain? and what of the words in those times, and what of my heart? the things i remember and cannot choose to forget. the things i cannot choose to remember and forget. let's waste time chasing cars around our heads love, one question remains, spinning in the pooling circles of my footsteps, fuzzed in-between states flaking off my hair and running down my eyelids, forcing my head into a bow. if i lay here, if i just lay here, would you lie with me, and just forget the world? Labels: musically inspired then write and write and write even when i feel there is nothing to say. merely a case of tense submersion waiting for the clouds to hang heavy so they can rise and break the surface with ripples of compressed beauty. what? for now i suspend buoyed by the strength of 10,000 unsaid and waiting weighed down by 10,000 already living and breathing, tangled like strands of hair tossed by a night of sleep waiting for quivers of sunlight to slice through bonds and gnarled knots of meaning i cannot run my fingers through just waiting. and what if i spend my 10,000 hours waiting and still remain under - a case of subterfuge? submerged. cheated of a promise. there is no alternative. in cultivating a strange addiction to this form of weightlessness 10,000 is not enough enough is enough. Labels: my poetry
"am i good enough?"
"what did you say?"
"did you like it?"
each pocket of silence swells and swirls,
the stretching surface
of a bubble about to
pop
and if you were too close
soap suds land on your tongue
and you recoil, frowning
at the aftertaste.
but sometimes,
after the dissipating vapour of silence has
finished with its airy frolic
the breezes pays a visit
quietly
and lands next to the ear
with a soothing touch and
a whispering reminder
"yes."
Labels: musing, my poetry, personal |