Golden-brown, almost toasted
To the soundless music wrought within
The endless tussle on the end of a muzzle
Pleasure and pain. Pleasure and pain.
Victory was ensured by a sorrow
That called my name. It called my name
I turned cold feet in a warm bed
And turned insane. I turned insane
Of a moist touch, its love abated
To a narrow frequency heard in the dark
A moment stolen from daylight’s hectic teeth
But it all lies wasted. It all lies wasted.
I smelt fragrance from so far away
I was captivated. So captivated.
But it turned and bit my head right off
And so I had to fake it. I had to fake it.
Crisp, light; crunchy under the crush
Held in large hands they were untasted
A swollen heavy breath on another day
Today grew tainted. It grew so tainted
Pressed closer, searching for an eternal truth
I turned away hated. I turned away hated
He swore it wasn’t just another day
But his tongue was jaded. His tongue was jaded.
Aglow in the middle of the day
These patterns replay in full swing today
I stare in horror at the mess I create
But the past lies naked. It just lies naked.
Strangers one second, lovers the next
My soul can’t take it. It just can’t take it.
Which is why I hold this in my chest
The bedsheet- I stained it. I only stained it.
This poem is a powerful one for me; it contains elements of imagination, experience and raw emotion mixed together. I can’t believe I wrote it at one am at the end of a really busy day. I don’t want to lose touch with the writer in me. Which is why I need to prove to myself; over and over again that I am capable of staying in touch with my emotions. This poem is full of vulnerabilities. It reflects the patterns of relationships. I’d like to think there is a little bit of everything in it.
The question I am wondering is: Am I losing my voice? It changes so often, it becomes so many different things. How real is it? And when will it start to hurt me, having a blog like this, out here?