Foraging for the purpose, the point
of our desire. Quenched so quickly,
Yes, the yearning holds more fire.
Such heat! Doesn’t it defeat the purpose,
The target, the goal of consummation? Sweet soul eaten like dessert, no hesitation.
A dire, empty bowl scraped – now inert. Serene is the tongue holding that lingering flavour.
Is it the yearning or consumed desire we savour?
Threads dispersed, tendrils drifting,
Cross stitches holding my heart together
Fragile grips for forever
Like kisses on a broken organ.
Undisclosed attachments to materialistic grips
Patterned designs meant for purpose
But, oh, giving me goose bumps of joy
As I blanket stitch them together.
Expressing my toxic insides
Filtering them with padding
Slip stitch my lips so nothing escapes;
Shh! Here comes the blunt truth…
Nothing can hold back the black and white
No shade. Backstitch that bad stuff,
But the running stitch won’t erase it.
The stark truth prevails like a blind stitch.
Consume my physical receptacle
Pool your passion as you will
Favour the inevitable
As I swallow the bitter pill
Of realising your incompetence
Of being more than a physical presence
Leave me yearning for more substance
In my search for a soulmate’s essence.
I feel as though bits of me are slipping away. The more I fulfil my dreams, the more my essence fades. Where is the balance between my destiny and my provenance? The journey doesn’t secure a link to both. Though I’ll gladly discard the parts that are unsecured and tangible, the rest I want to retain.
I feel as though bits of me are slipping away. Maybe one day I will awaken to the butterfly and not the caterpillar. Until then, my doubt lingers like the promise of metamorphosis.
Posted in Weekly Trail
Tagged blogging, blogs, celebration, challenge, death, life, loss, passion, poems, poetry, Readers, writers, writing
A blast from the past for this Friday. Poetry from My Poetry Book, available from http://lulu.com/spotlight/eloisedesousa
Thoughts by Mello-Elo
At the edge of our memories and just within sight
Our dreams hover like butterflies on a hazy day
Each step you take to get closer, within reach of the light
These butterflies just dance away.
I watch as each dream flies so slight, playing with the wind and my hair
I see a gun pointed and a shot ring out
Another dream has died in that way.
Push forward you are told and your dreams will come true
Who lied and gave us a false path?
For as you push forward in the future, along tags your past
You will find you’re stuck in the same place.
A stagnant pool that simmers and sighs,
Watching the butterflies dance above it.
You can wait and cry, but it will not change anything.
That is the way life will always stay.
I sit in my play pool, watching the water splash;
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