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The Color of Goodbye

And just like that, my life
suddenly seems like
it is not my own.
Your almost-green eyes
stared through me from
a non-existent land,
a dimension I don’t have
the capabilities to reach.
Can I verbalize the color
of your goodbyes?
Is there a shade
to match my pain?
Does a hue of an
explanation exist?   Continue reading The Color of Goodbye

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Fictional.

Perhaps she let
fear hold her back.

Her head reeled with
thoughts like fractals,
an endless realm.
Things became difficult
and intense and made
her desire to sleep.

She knew there was
never an acceptable
reason to deny love,
but at the time it seemed
like an unattainable miracle
to be chosen.

She should have
drank deeply
to reveal
the exquisite
nature of things,
instead
she sank meekly
with silent
shadows of failure,
escaping parted lips,
a breath
coalesced
with ridiculous
fictional
longings.

 

 

______________________________

Photograph: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Dazzle Me

I am a dark sea.
You are a dazzling light
that intensifies,
as morning is
on its way.
I bend my head
and ponder,
as a collection
of dizziness
passes me by.
Maybe I need
a slew of
your strength,
a savior–

and
you have
your hope
your determination,
the color of
blood red wine,
just on the
cusp of victory.

The answer was
always there
if I just
opened
my eyes
and looked.

 

_____________________________

Photograph: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Writhing in the Dark

Maybe it is best
left as a mystery,
all the sacred things
you hold dear,
trapped inside
for you to breathe.

Even as you notice
the most sincere
principles of reality–
you condemn all the fake
that screams in your face,

and that knowledge may lead
to even more intricate puzzles,
fluttering down from
somewhere to nowhere,
like lazy words writhing
mystically in the dark.

 

______________________________

Original Photography

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Fleeting

She was constantly battling tainted thoughts
that were grotesque in the way that their goal
was always to destroy her, bring her down.
Could someone have the ability to see her calm?
To entice it? To think it was graceful and angelic?
She imagined it would be like spotting a rare butterfly
or catching a glimpse of how a waterfall glimmers on a
precise angle of the sun–fleeting, yet a moment to treasure.

_____________________________

Photography: Lanaya @writing.for.the.calm

 

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Indigo Shadows

Love is always a world away.
Either you sell your soul up front
or give it freely for an unattainable need–
regardless, the smiles fade into obscurity.
Your lips may drip or bend, like a
willow tree in a lonesome field,
hoping to hear wisdom in the breeze.

How do you come out unbroken when
indigo shadows carry you far away?
They blind you in your silence
coercing wispy, imposters in your day.
Thoughts invade your imagination,
tickling your quest for peace,
forcing red around your heart
sending up a frantic fleet.

How do you press on when
you cared more than ever before,
the hurt gaining strength and
constantly reminding you
of all you have lost?

Numbing distractions, avoidance,
they are the easy path.
Embrace the pain you’ve earned,
push on, the ache, can’t surely last.

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Nothing Is Denied.

The sheer size
of life cradles us
to the point of defeat.
Are we the child that
asks endless questions
with sincere curiosity?
Or, are we the fish,
content in its universe
oblivious in a lake,
until new limits are set,
new perspective appearing
as real as the hook in its cheek?
If you really magnify
something deemed solid,
you soon discover that,
what seems to be,
are actually loose particles
held together by hope.
Regardless, everything
is connected to something,
and something reaches into infinity.
So, to suggest that this must end here
is the real absurdity.

 

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Photo: @writing.for.the.calm

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Red Light Special.

Listen to the hum.
The thought of speeding
down a side street
to beat a red light.
The rushing.
The wishing away.
The avoidance.
The fear to face the truth.
The thoughts collected in
the blink of a traffic light.
Recognize your true reflections.

Continue reading Red Light Special.

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Checkmate

There was a time when checkmate was her future.
Then, she pushed a pawn, he advanced a knight.
They meddled with the squares,
black and white before them,
compounding into a lovely shade of gray.
He predicted her moves well in advance.
He may capture her queen, but she’s a goddess still,
taking his bishop deep within her game,
moving towards the grid that’ll change her name,
that makes her cherish the place they collided,
the end they strive to attain, with her on top,
in his face, in the place, on the board,
where even if he leaves her tied up in a corner,
with no moves, insane, she won just the same.

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Merciful Dawn

Justify. Such an apologetic word.
Nonetheless–yes, I’ve used a transition,
to transition to the fact that we are justifiable.
Do you need to see me to know I am smiling?
Of course not. You are more than aware that
your green makes me bloom and let go of any
frequency of fear that may frequent my space.

What is it that you want out of this world?
Go to the zenith of your thoughts and
tell me what you deem momentous.
I need to know what pushes you to feel
alive to the point that it’s near deadly.

Isn’t that how life juts out and meddles with time?
It pushes us to feel like it exists differently, more naive.
And yet, we sit and meander through our thoughts
in order to turn over the real beauty that surrounds us.
I hold still to the belief in love and light,
your eyes more bright and telling than
a crystal or a merciful dawn.

_________________________

Photo Credit: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Overcome

Sometimes, when the weight
of it all enfolds you,
like an overfilled knapsack,
after an eternity,
you push it away,
your bones weary
and mind haggard.
But, you unearth strength,
like a new dawn,
Eos opening the gates
and welcoming the sun,
and there’s an instant ecstasy
juxtaposed with
a plethora of pain,
ancient galaxies can’t stand up
to the collapse of the climax
or the refrain, so you try to refrain,
but instead stagger through
until you are feeling so huge
and new, with the view
of the old you,
standing at the edge
of your own prison
viewing the skewed,
peering and wondering
how long before
you are no longer hungry,
but held even more,
with a lovely afterglow
after the low
of an aching, pummeled soul,
knowing the stellar is ready
to truly unfold.

 

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Photo Credit: Genre Contributor, Rich

IG: @see.rich.shoot