I see cemeteries in the patterns of
the cushions on the couch
There are no floral embroideries
only death lilies in distant funeral homes
that I believe may be planted
in my nose.
Wearing black,
Sometimes I feel I am invisible,
Other times I am a chameleon
on this couch
Mourning
I crush into my own rubble.
They question my stability
Trying all natural remedies
they wont turn off the lights
that sting my wounds
incapable of clearing these red eyes
they are afraid of my pain.
I lay the fetal position
dreaming of head stones and dirt-
I am clawing at the top of a coffin
covered in mud in the rain.
Humidity lurks at the surface
The sky rumbles. The radiator gurgles loudly in response. I can almost make out words. Is it English? No, definitely Russian. I whisper: yes.. come in
Rushing rain, there is a winter waterfall outside my window dragging loose pebbles. Tap, tap, tick. This room is a closed shell with pearl interiors.
A mermaid attempts to hibernate, but lies sleeplessly clutching dried starfish. In the ceiling I see the dark uncertainty of the deepest sea.
Photo by -Antoine- on flickr
Reds & greens
kiss as they twist
to the last jolly lick-
slipping through
the fingers
of the woman with the peppermint flavored
lips, white lights
flickering behind
her cherry colored
dress, she stares into the chocolate with the green tin wrapping until
it begins to resemble
mistletoe as she makes
two candy canes kiss
and forms a heart<3
Poem inspired by Writer's Island Prompt #11- "Slipped through my fingers"
This beautiful photo was taken by Janoid, posted on Flickr
