If today marked how the rest of my life would be
I wouldn’t survive on just the time alone
All the strength within my heart
is fading quietly
Burning, raging, words carved in stone
It dulls to embers
barely concealing hurts
Cut, scars, bones
My soul feels like a ghost frozen in December
long lost to time
wanting to remember
a beautiful night, gazing into a princes eyes
with dark passion playing on the lips
of angels made of marble
their eyes were like amber
their touch so cold
I can feel myself fading
even as the ghosts find their homes
in the arms of lovers who haven’t quite died
I struggle to breathe, to live
it feels like darkness is closing over my head
haunting my dreams, sleeping under my bed
I feel like screaming, like begging to be woken up
I just cant live like this
in this place where only sadness remains
the fallen spirit of an angel in chains
I feel nothing but anger
I have nothing but rage
I cant even sleep
without being haunted of promises
they’ve yet to keep
Screams that have woken
me in the middle of the night
slowly losing this fight
How could I have fallen
so far from my grace
If my words went spoken
Just to save me some face
I could try
to pry into my innermost reserves
living for silence
hungry for words
What is love?
A question, asked rhetorically.
We cannot look it up in the encyclopedia,
and we cannot Google-search the meaning.
In moments of despair,
it is not so easy as an instruction manual,
or a to-do list, or a spreadsheet.
It is not a formula, nor a calculation.
Not a code to program, nor a simple script.
No, love is undeniable and identifiable,
but not solidly defined.
I know it when I see it.
I can recognize the sound.
And as I try to deny it,
the interpretation is found.
(C) Bethany Moore
Soothed by the whisper of a cool wind
My soul longed for our reunion
The past compiled my wordy thoughts
Your gaze made me feel jumbled, confused.
I can't remember just what was eating you
When we are together, it is anochronistic
My mind is swimming in a sea of old thoughts
Nostalgic reasons to question my choices.
What am I supposed to do with our situation?
No one wants a girl they can't understand
I feel I must remove myself, try again.
When I see the robot girls in their
Pink party dresses, looking at the floor
I am thankful that the same conditioning
Left me blissfully
Defective of their mission.
The same cake they have and eat
I would surely choke on and die.
I raise my fists in anger
At the life I have rejected.
I extend my arms in comfort
Towards the memory of what we were.