#june2k22

[poetrybecomesher]

#5 “the mother wound”

I wish you could see me

for who I am.

Not who I could be,

who you wish me to be, 

nor who I was.

There is a gaping hole,

jagged and raw in the chasm of my soul.

Shaped exactly like you.

[poetrybecomesher]

#29 “your name sounds like a rhythm”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.”  - Romeo and Juliet: II.ii.

Your name rolls off of my tongue like a melody

accompanied by the drumming of my heart

synced to the song of your soul.

Your name is the sweetest lyric 

to ever leave my lips. I could speak your name 

every day and every hour, until Selene’s chariot 

crosses the night sky, and even then; 

I would speak your name like a prayer

The one true deity to which my soul is bound.

The syllables of your name forms

a magic spell that encases me to you.

Ah, sweet vixen! Even the waters of Lethe

wouldn’t be able to wipe the rhythm of your name

from my memory.

[poetrybecomesher]

#4 “tragically, yours”

Dear Beloved,

How I yearn to embrace thee!

If only you knew how my heart aches to be in your presence.

The light of day seems so cheerless without you,

and the sun may as well be the moon

devoid of its life-giving warmth.

Yet, I know thou doth not love me.

You could never stray from the teachings 

of thine accursed house.

But my darling, 

I prithee never forget that you are loved.

Tragically,

Yours.

[poetrybecomesher]

#30 “there exists art in all hearts”

There exists art in

the expanse of my soul

clawing to escape.

[poetrybecomesher]

#28 “of little gestures and big love”

Love is patient

and love is kind.

It is the cup of coffee left on the counter

for the passing hand to pick up

on their way to work.

It is not envious

for it knows that it is the home to your soul

perfumed by the scent of your dreams.

It is comfort and intimacy

tangled in passion and understanding.

You laughed when I said our love was

the expanse of the glittering Northern Sea.

My love, although our actions are miniscule

they encompass universes.

[poetrybecomesher]

#27 “grief in a jukebox”

With the clanking coins

we paid the piper to weave us a dream.

Lured by the promises of beauty

conjured up by his haunting melody

drawn from the magic of his music.

When grief arrives, there is naught you can do

but hold on and pray that the weight of it

won’t drown you in the sea that

was once called love.

[poetrybecomesher]

#26 “pining for destruction”

Everywhere I look,

I see the contours of your frame

clothed in the firelight of the wretched sun.

A daylight wraith that haunts me

throughout the expanse of these deserted lands

of my barren and broken heart. Comfort

found in the taste of dark liquor 

and perfumed smoke curling from the

edges of carnivorous smiles. 

The burn of the regurgitated shards

of my once vibrant heart is the only

taste I can remember.

You once said I was sweet like honey.

The only one to pay attention

to the innocent candy that dripped from

my hands. Maybe, just maybe

that is why I yearn for you.

[poetrybecomesher]

#25 “lady macbeth”

“Look like th’ innocent flower, But be the serpent under ‘t.” -Macbeth: I.v.64

We women have mastered the art

of portraying that which the world wants to see.

We have played many roles

of maiden, mother, and crone. Moon goddess

and manic pixie dream girl. None have seen through

our act nor gazed under the deceit. 

We’ve spoken honey-sweetened lies

before betraying whoever stood between us

and our goals. Like our patron saint Lady Macbeth,

we have supported and solidified

plans for the betterment of ourselves and those we share

life and home with. The façade of the flower

was seamless. You didn’t even suspect

the serpent hidden beneath.