Master

Master

 
I will never call a man Master.
But I will love him masterfully,
Worshiping all parts
of him so skillfully
with all parts of me.
He will believe he
owns the Universe.

Poetry

Poetry

The words
strangle me
and I die everyday.
Perhaps
I’m addicted to dying
or is it the thrill
of losing my breath
when the words constrict
and I can’t speak?
The only thing
left at the end of
each day
is my lifeless body,
and a handwritten
eulogy, entitled
poetry.

 

 

Trust

Trust

I put my secrets
in your pockets,
taking for granted
you’d keep them safe.
You see,
I’m a dangerous girl
living out loud,
but fooling myself
thinking nobody
hears me.
When you heard me,
you emptied your pockets
and all my secrets
came falling out.

 

Stillness

Stillness

In the quiet, pristine morn
just before day’s dawn
When new thoughts have
yet to be born,
I settle into stillness,
mimicking the trees
just outside my window.

Sipping tea breaks the placidity,
and the trees lightly sway 
in the breeze, they seem 
to welcome the lull.

I wonder if the feel
of the wind on their spine
warms them,
like the tea warms mine.
The thought subsides as 
quickly as it came,
and I settle back
into stillness. It’s
strangely comforting
believing the trees
don’t care.

Seasons Past

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Seasons Past

Nature plays nostalgic,
A subtle strumming
Of my heart
And her song falls
Evident off my cheeks.
Weeping the notes
Of seasons past,
The melody
Is never long
Forgotten.

 

 

Transparency

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Transparency

His life
Every moment
Etched like fine art
On transparent skin
He tries to hide it
But I see…
He’s a masterpiece