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​there are people, wandering through my house, planting seeds of grief and devastation. 

the bleak smell of dried tears is adorning their whispered chatter.

abandoned footsteps on my garden path, my mum would be proud of the flower beds. 

dust is filling empty cupboards and lukewarm coffee is painting circles on tabletops. 

i want to capture this day, this moment where everything is schemes and shadows. 

in the hollow of the light i still can see your dancing form. 

morning glory

​my heart stretches, expanding so little.

for all the accumulated space and time. i filled with books and music. paintings and sunrises. the counting of your moles.

i feel the ever pleasant ache of giving away some part of me to conserve another one of natures wonders. the icy thornes of frozen twigs. white branches glistening in the pale morning light. 
i breath in. the cold and ragged flickers of small wonders

you and me. in winter. 

your lips on mine – 

under blazing starlight,

among snow-covered trees.

raspy whispers fluttering across my frozen cheek. 

i stoke the cooling embers 

flames licking up my spine. ignited. 

and your skin. your touch. everywhere a tender caress.

bruises blossom around my hip bones.

a day, a year i feel your fire.

cold toes against your shin. 

under blanket forts we count the dancing snowflakes. 

get up.

get up.
rusty marks on chest and bone. i want to leave this place.

get up.
my brain is working full time. stop.
hide. behind rosy cheeks. your blackened eyes and
mean spirited demeanour.

get up.
from ashes. burned woods and cooling embers.

get up.
raise your voice. scream and stumble trough the roughness of your throat.
now is not the time to find cover. no threshhold will let you pass.
no candles in windows to lead you to a silver lining.

get up.
on this maddening path. in search for change. for one is only still when dying.

growing. up.

Can be less than expected. Even cruel in it´s underestimated trait
– To end

Fleeting. I try to grasp all the forms confiding you.
Words and guestures. Often in haste, so full of anger.
Which origin i can not decipher.
Are etched into my skull, on the map my brain so naturally created.
You say, it has to be that way.
Whenever i cry out in pain. Infront of you. You ask my what to do.

All of this happened so many years ago. But for the child inside of me,
It never stopped. I try to draw it out of the shadows and weary minded memories.
Latley

You told me you loved me. So many times. “I am proud of you, my eldest.”
And still, he kept hitting me, tearing my soul to pieces. from time to time.
The mind developes strategies to put together the shattered fragments.
My mind lost some parts through time, to cope and live, a life i slowly come to understand.

The almost average brutallity of me, growig up in a mix of tears and laughter.

Grief over your weeping body. Silent weeping.
Shocked by my own mortality. My wilted, decaying body under ground. Melting with your ashes. Digested by worms and maggots. My soul is coiling up around herself. Freed of daily ordinaries. Pressed and filed are the normed behavior patterns , fading in the memories of the living.
What remains are filtered fragments. To sougar-coat the past. The memories. To ultimately accept the never unchangeable.

Now:
I am. But diffrent. All these versions of myself. Most of the time.

fleeting moment

Bumping in and out of moonlights,

i can feel Orions belt puncturing my skin.

beneath the crickets song –

i hear your soft laughter –

runnig till the world is ending,

skinny-dipping into wet proportions –

patterned black and blue –

the deep is raising goosebumps up my spine.

 

I am among dripping riots,

forward, forward till the yearning stills.

– the red and lilac next to my ear

– and grassy footprints on my bare feet,

breathless in the morning – light

 

copyright (c) 2014 by franzad

written for OLN by dVerse