The tears have stopped ever since…

Life got in and I forgot to be completing my National Poetry Month writings in, now its June… So, Imma skip that out and post something that I wrote recently πŸ™‚

grayscale photo of water illustration
Photo by Hossam M. Omar on Pexels.com

and when the wind
slowly caress my cheeks
in precision strokes
like that of an artist, I sit still
lamenting to the halfway

moon-
hidden behind laced clouds
like a shy bride

β€’

the dreams painted on my
charred diary, blurs,
as I pluck feathers from the
dream catchers

β€’

the metaphors clogged
up inside my trajectory veins,
send waves upon fear
as I wait in rain
for the music to stop

β€’

and the words,
they haunt inside sleep
and laughter; waiting to be released
from the turbulent storm.

but when they emerge;
they spread like ink bloats
spilled from an overfilled pen

β€’

I sit naked to the stars
that twinkle in defiance;

I no longer
contemplate if their actions
fall under my
weighted scales.

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Implode (NaPoMo 10)

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peaceful,
mournful;

the day sleeps on her shoulder
as she skins
chapters of the night,
into cracked mason jars.

I watch her-
breaking inside;

as her memories blink.

Valorous (NaPoMo 8)

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scars vested deep in
the clefts of my nightmares-
burn relentlessly;

too dim,

to illuminate
the dungeon
I am chained to.

yet,
the shadows
flicker
boldly in shades of blood-
pumped from within
my ribcage of promises.

I am
left not to rot,
with the drips
magnanimously-
lifting me from
self-perversion.

Dejection (NaPoMo 6)

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for the last decade
of my screams,
I have forgotten the hang
of how words
can echo back
to the ossuary-
wherein lies my battered self;
bleeding wet cacophony
on the gravestones
of my suicidal whims…

Blemished (NaPoMo 5)

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~~

my limbs fold in
itself,
merging together
to form a self-carved
stone;
atop pebbles
thrown at me,
as I tried to crawl
through abyss of
echoing conflicts.

β€’

time swayed
relentlessly
forming monochrome
in a heartbeat;
yet,
I remained as a stigma
amidst stipples.

~~