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the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire
Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.
bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.
VaseA broken heart can be excavated.
Damaged tissue can be scrupulously removed
and the cracks can be sealed
with the molten trails of gold solidified.
The upturned cavity,
once proofed against further damage,
can become a pulsing vase for tulips,
because even though your heart has been broken
it is still valuable beyond comparison.
silver dreams.i won't say a single thing
about what you and i did that night.
it wasn't anything bad, we were
made to do it.
but the way your tears fell down
in the shape of a cloud
and the pounding on the doors
told us the stars were calling.
more like the gates of hell, but
you think stars make the most delicate
corpses.
HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.
Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
How To WriteHow to write:

Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
A chapter.
A story.
The end. ♥
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More from ~CaronCecilia

Blind LoveI love you,
you know I do.
You see it  
shine through my eyes;
You feel it
when I touch you.
Why can’t you acknowledge it?
Melded Heart EternalI opened up my heart for you,
 slid my knife deep inside my breast.
                   i felt the blade go in, sharp and stinging
Past the bone and tissue
 to the beating organ under it.
                   your broken and mended beautiful heart
I carved out half to give to you,
 and you gave up part of yours.
                   i took yours willingly; gave mine willingly
Our pieces melded easily;
 you're forever kept inside my chest.
                   forever i will stay...
Don't walk away from me,
 your blood flows within my veins.
                   i cannot beat without you
If you ever tried to leave
 I'd surel
Crush on the Super NovaYou are my Rock Star.
Body glistening under the lights,
  mouth open in a wail that reaches your home,
  hands gliding across your instrument.

I’m in the crowd, singing and chanting your name,
  pushing my way to the front of the stage.
Trying to get as close to you as the bouncers will allow.
Never getting quite close enough to touch.

You scan the crowd, taking in the sea of faces,
  Eyes never lingering on one for very long.
Then, suddenly, your eyes find mine,
  but you just glance over me like everyone else.

I’ve had a revelation.
I’ve come to realize that Rock
Cycle of SolitudeThundering murmurs, raise their goose pimples across your skin,
letting the war scarred windows whisper their longing,
sighing sweetly under the sill, they sweep the floor,
looking for ears to land on that will hear them for what they are.

Tears rain down your parched skin
 and soak into your arid lips.
Will we ever hear the sighs
 over the downpour?

There the footsteps are fading, running through wet drops,
rejoice at the liquid of life we receive,
and let the tears fulfill a circle that none can live without,
for darkness and light require each other in this life.

Alone in our solitude,
 together in our grief.
The my
Director's CutSwimming in our cup of lust,
  bright red swirls of heat and passion
  lap over us in sweet abandon.
Tip the cup and pour us out on stage.

Your beauty and my beast
 meet in the middle
  of the main event with delight,
 and our divan is the arena.

It’s a love affair of epic proportions;
  super star and supporting role
  prepare for scene one.
and……Action!
Dark is the Drugthe dark knows no feeling

Sitting here alone…always alone.
The pain and past whip around me,
  pecking at my eyes,
  attacking me unrelentlessly.

I visit the darkness.
Like a drug, it washes over me,
  melting away what devours.
I yearn for the emptiness I feel here.

I stay until the pain is gone,
  until I can breathe once more.
Then I stumble into the light,
  and exist until the pain finds me again.

a never-ending circle

Let me sink into the dark,
  the abyss,
  the void I’ve fallen into.
Only in the dark can I be at peace.

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April 8, 2009
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Seasons of Life

:iconcaroncecilia:

I
My life is brand new.
Sounds of life my voice,
Blue and cloudless my eyes,
Budding branches my hair,
Patchwork flowers my dress.
I am reborn.
I am renewal.
     I am Spring.

II
My life is carefree.
Lazy days my attitude,
Laughter my song,
Sunshine my smile,
Youth my adrenaline.
I am family.
I am wonder.
     I am Summer.

III
My life is winding down.
Falling leaves my cover,
Harvests my maturity,
Cool weather my instinct,
Thanks my legacy.
I am ripe.
I am golden.
     I am Autumn.

IV
My life is over.
Snow my tears,
Barren trees my wrinkles,
Slumber my death,
Blankets my grave.
I am old.
I am tired.
     I am Winter.
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:iconloofsydobon:
~looFsydoboN Apr 8, 2009   Writer
Well done. I love the progression and the pattern.
Though, in TX we only have 2 seasons. Summer and not summer. 11 months of summer, 1 month of not summer. The 1 month of not summer is scattered about here and there through out the year. :D
Reply
:iconcaroncecilia:
~CaronCecilia Apr 8, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
don't i know it.....texan born and raised....YUK....hated texas....lived in the southeast....near houston
Reply
:iconloofsydobon:
~looFsydoboN Apr 8, 2009   Writer
I'm in Austin. :)
I like it, 'cause the cold hurts me. So, the lack of winter is a very good thing for me. And Austin has some wonderful trees. Just have to deal with the allergies. ;)
Reply
:iconcaroncecilia:
~CaronCecilia Apr 8, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
yeah.....austin is in some pretty country....
Reply
:iconloofsydobon:
~looFsydoboN Apr 8, 2009   Writer
Yup yup. :) And our apartment over looks a wilderness preserve, so, it won't ever be developed.
Reply
:iconcaroncecilia:
~CaronCecilia Apr 8, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
lucky you!!! up here i have a lil old mountain starin at me outta my living room window.... ;)
Reply
:iconloofsydobon:
~looFsydoboN Apr 9, 2009   Writer
Ooo, that could be pretty.
Reply
:iconcaroncecilia:
~CaronCecilia Apr 9, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
oh it is....no doubt!!! :D
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconiconic-johnny:
*iconic-johnny Apr 8, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
I love it! I keep thinking of this as a sort of progression from childhood (Spring) to old age (Winter).
Anyways, great poem! :aww:

:clap::clap::clap::clap:
Reply
:iconcaroncecilia:
~CaronCecilia Apr 8, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
and so it is!!!! or is it??? ;)

it really is the two combined....
Reply
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