poetry in progress
You’re in an empty field Filled with mutual hope He has his arms around you Face inches from yours Wearing a smile that
By Poppy 3 years ago in Poets
My hands are stained With faux germs The soap can’t Wash off ❀ The detergent Windscreen wiper In my mind won’t stop
My dreams most often Hand me my desires and fears Gift wrapped in nonsensical ways Occasionally they offer neither Sometimes they throw me a net
We met when Spring Was fading into Summer A time when the days were Growing longer My skin becoming thicker
I never thought anything would be Stronger than the urge to trail My fingertips along the softness Of your skin ❀ But when your forget-me-not
You’re on the outskirts Of every group of people Your back hugging the wall Like it’s your best chance Of safety ❀ I strike a match and
Their sunlight is golden Like the ichor of gods My skin is stained red Darling won’t you wipe this blood away? ❀ There’s ballads and words carved in stone
1. The Devil I Know The door slammed Time and time again Another silhouette melting Into the distance Disappearing from everything
By Poppy 3 years ago in Psyche
you - helpless, drowning me - screaming, let me save you you - doomed to be blue
Your hands pressed secrets against my skin while my lips trailed questions along your shoulder. The night was built on years worth of wishes but tainted by morning epiphanies.
I am a mountain You - the moon, unreachable Still, I long to touch
Last night I lived in a Memory of a daydream You handed me spontaneity And because it was Your hands holding it I cradled it against
