Trees blur in my salty snow globes A dark seaweed wash for this bright forest and a bramble scratch in my throat. His hand rests on my leg, a dead weight. I fold my hands like napkins. White and edge to edge on my lap. Crisp and careful. Unavailable. I don’t want to be touched.
Loosen your limbs it said Loosen and let me take you. My black rock heavier than your shallow breaths A delirious sleep that fills your ears and thick as treacle wraps your lungs. You won’t feel it. Just a fleeting gasp and then nothing. Close your eyes if it makes it better. Just close your
A thousand empty words. Strewn on the sands and on The tides will take them Tripping carelessly over white horses and dissolving to foam. Exhaled into deep green. Until at last you are gone. #charlisays #poetsofinstagram #poetry #poetrylovers #writerslife #amwriting #writersofinstagram #writing #ocean #beachlife
There’s a world of madness in my wave A foam of white crest crazy and deep dark you. Bubbling at my breast and tightening my neck. Pulling at my legs and grasping at my hair. That seaweed voodoo charging me off balance. Singing me back, deep into cobalt nothing. Where the depths are too great
“What do you think” she said. “A different country for every decade. To reinvent yourself and never leave a trace of your former self. Never to be left at the olive tree where we first kissed or stand on the shore watching our bright boats fade to sepia in the distance. What if each chapter
Hers was a chameleon soul Flitting with the moons ebbs and whims A freewheeling compass That led her dancing in riddles A blur of soft kisses on the shoreline And kaleidoscope lights in her mirror A million smiles shattered on the landscape And split between them Each claiming he knew her Each an affinity with
@charlisaysCherry & The Bees, a poem by Charli. ##charlisays ##poetry ##writerslife ##amwriting 🐝🐝🐝 ♬ original sound – Charli Day And so she smiled that smile. The one he thinks is real Cherry red and bitten inside A bitter stone lodged in her throat Swallowing hard keeps the bees down Churning like molten amber in her
And his hand on my pallid forehead A dead fish hand on pure stained ice I cannot see his face but I imagine it might be expressionless yet kind. The father, the guardian, the reaper He will take me from here. I shivered, teeth rattling and hairs raised The taste metallic, a tiny drop of
I don’t remember how I came to be here Myriads of ocean rainbows painting my neck and the warm around me tight as his embrace A halo of hope and love and around and there I don’t recall my feet on the sand or the first brush of blue But I’m one. Standing still in
