spurbella

You told me so many secrets before you left,

But I heard your whisper loud and clear.

Like a drop of water into a vast pond,

The ripples it caused spoke the silent message within my soul.

The response which came was subtle and quiet,

Yet the shift I'd felt was more natural than anything had been before.

As if finally stepping into my role,

And the path I'd carved for myself toward the future,

Toward the sun that has always sat quietly beside the horizon.

Watching me, with the stars and the sky.

And I,

A canvas of their creation.

Existing quietly, profoundly, equally,

is there any point? Night, blanket me in your shadows. Oh thief, adorned with starlight and silvercrowned by the moonlight, take me away from the dawn that threatens to break me from my dreams and hide me in the array of constellations you display. That way I can continue to live in the dreams you offer me as solace, and hide from the one who threatens to shatter it.

How, and why, do we lose? Nothing is lost they say- simply misplaced. If that's true, where can I find the piece to my soul. How had I lost it? And where can I find it? Within me, behind me, ahead of me? Or perhaps by not looking at all. But ignorance is a subtle, costly thief. Snipping away at the things you loosen your grip on; turn your head away from, until it's gone from your grasp and you've forgotten what can never be remembered the same. I can demand, but the hole in my body will remain.

Summer's Secrets 🧡

🦋🌀

I'll admit to thinking sex was my salvation.

Yellow flowers grow where my heart knows is home. I walked the path that my mind knew well but my feet knew better. It was just as quiet as I remember, a peace that was so tranquil on my heavy soul. For a year I lived there, by no coincidence it was the darkest year of my life. The wind blew gentle there, never right through my blood and bones like the wind does here. I sat infront of the house that was once mine, and before that my Aunty's, and now, nobody's. It was like me now, it looked completely different. Renovated to appeal, to be sold. But here and there, I saw it. The stump of a tree I used to pass by. The rocky and steep hill I'd rake tirely on. The driveway I rode my new bike up. Ghost images and unpictured memories lingered everywhere I looked, even the image of me, a teen and reminiscing, would soon be left to trickle into the cracked cement I was sitting on, and grow as little yellow flower like weeds along the sidewalk. Up the street, children played in front of their new home excitedly, and across the street, the old home with its broken swing swung quietly.

Befittingly, I remained across the street too, when I went on and passed them by.

And if you're down to spend this summer with me, just let me know. ❁