Box your dried tears for a rainy day.
Tag: women poet
Hopeful. Unnamed.
Dear Us,
We’re not done yet.
Sincerely yours,
~Meadow
Till the end of days
With all do respect, I still love you.
Did you?
I chased you with words, at times misunderstood.
You ran erasing the promises that could.
Astounded and bewilder.
The spark that ignited flames🔥🌙
This distance between, a vocal memory
The silence you speak, so loud, in words you’ll mute.
You flew far in our short time.
Close to where the skies touch the emotions of our universe.
In separate lives.
Our parallels still speak
This distance; still meets.
I sit and wonder where you’d be-
I lie to wonder everything.
What meant you and I, there’s no coincidence as our stars, shined that March night.
Devine as she spoke, emotions overflowed.
Embers to the wind, blinded sparks.
A dreamers dream
I wish to hold you. When you remember me.
Mania
The ocean can’t be this pink.
You haven’t experienced my manic eyes.
Erica
I am a house.
Inside a labyrinth.
Red brick walls
Cement sticks.
I know my way
I made the pattern exclusively.
Though to say; with these patterns
I saw, I seen and I’ve been present,
Sometimes to my fault of lost.
Made so thick, so crimson-
A hint of a noir soul
A hint unhinged
But, her naturally haunting beauty remains.
When the day remained to be at its will,
Filled with strength?
Her walls-
collapsed.
Title-less
Mouths talk. Tongues move.
Now here I’m left, lips sewn mute.
El prado
I found paradise on your lips, on wooden benches at the meadows.
Inside a silver ring engraved. A memory we can’t replace.
Passed velvet curtains and a snake vertebrae.
The meadows
In an endless embrace, my heart beats slowly faster
Thoughts of the world erase
With your breath of winter
Touch so soft, it hurts
Your scent makes me tremble
Awaken hidden comforts-
You’re my drug that makes me numb
From my soul to my fingertips
Only you can make me cum
With your wine taste lips.
Your kisses leave me breathless
Drives me anxious
Caress me with soberness
To our dark and endless place
Weaken my muscles
Our eyes close
Floating on dreams of a lucid overdose
Erica L. Varela 