Teacup in a storm

 

Bad moon glowering down,

clouds are looming loud,

the mist rising, and I’m in a fog,

mind alive, but misfiring.

Lightning strikes the temple,

Head in hands I fall

into the elemental soup

of this once solid ground

that now consumes every drop of truth.

And like a teacup in a storm, 

my thoughts feel brittle,

chipping away 

 little by little . 

 

I pray to deities that will not listen,

I project words to the heavens, protect me

from the darkness climbing in.

I don’t want it to blemish this skin.

 

And like a teacup in a storm,

I’m shaking at the thought

that in a blink of an eye

this universe I've constructed

could die.

My thoughts frothing

over the gold-lined rim,

they won’t stop,

dripping

over every countertop,

until my thoughts

are overwhelming me.

 

The tides are waning, 

I’m just standing,

watching, waiting

for them

to turn

and consume me.

 

And like a teacup in a storm,

my contents are poured all over the page.

Spilt truth stains every sentiment,

split milk words taste sour,

over them all I cry, resentment

at myself for never

being good enough for me.

 

But like a teacup in a storm

my contents are still warm,

and I know that the clouds will pass

and the sun will come,

the moon will paint

a smile on the glass

surface of the seas,

and I’ll be okay,

because in magic I believe,

and in hope I swim easily.

Letting my words flow more freely.

Who will miss the fallen poet?

 

Every time I have

to paint that smile

on my face 

I die a little more inside.

I wear it wide,

toothy and big,

but inside

I grab a shovel and dig.

6 foot deep to bury me

in the loneliest hole of all,

this grave I dig myself

when I slowly start to fall.

 

For who will miss the fallen poet?

 

A soldier of words,

born again to reunite

sentences that were

lost to times deepest tides.

But who sees the look

behind those eyes?

The tired ones with

dim flickering light

that is slowly

fading out over time.

 

Who will miss the fallen poet

when the night calls out

and snuffs out the fire inside?

 

These questions

once scared me,

these thoughts

would blare

so loud at night,

so loud

I’d lay and slowly

die inside,

But now I see the love

that holds me tight,

the ones

that will care

The ones

that reignite the light

when the day

is darkest and to them 

I hand my heart.

And every time I paint this smile

on my face, I live a little more,

because this smile is true,

this smile is pure.

 

For the fallen poet

will always rise.

Lost

 

Find me please, I’m lost,

my hope left me and I’m scared,

mental state leaking,

dripping thoughts through my fingers,

smearing them across my chest.

 

Find me please, I’m scared,

my hope left, and now I’m here

with no threads to search.

Just an empty bed to lurk

waiting for darkness to come.

 

Find me please, I’m lost,

my hope is gone and I cry

that I’m floating away.

Catch me please, my heart needs life

it is decaying inside.

 

Find me please, I’m lost,

alone and low, hope, no show.

I need you with me.

I need you to hold me close.

I need your heartbeat with me.