i am haunted. i am my own haunting. i am the ghost in the graveyard of my body, mournful, monstrous.
There is nothing more hopeful than the delicate touch of rain amongst a thunderstorm of clouds.
I feel laden with unsaid dreams
spilling over my hair, my feet
walking through a daylit night
full of sparkling stars and troubled sleep
Black foggy mountains
bow beneath the legacy
of a golden sun
Thursday, 26th August 2021
I haven't left but the spiders are already moving in
I find them in my bed, my curtains, dead and coiled in an old blanket fort
They ring the chimes that hang from my ceiling light
And find space among the creaking boards
I had a dream of this once, spiders hung in every corner and footfall
Taking over my life, my memories, as they crawl into the space left before
It is only when I know I am leaving, that I see the dust in the corner
And the tide coming in from the far away shore
I'd prefer to sit awhile
waiting for the storm to come
the heavens rush and clamour and sing
but the rain is kept hidden
beneath the canopy of this weeping willow tree
Sometimes I read books that I only want to keep to myself as if the whole world would conquer the magic I felt in a few simple moments
And when the night falls, and darkness lays beside me, I don't want to fall in love, I want to be in your arms and forgotten as the mist touches the hills...................
everytimeyousaygoodbye ©
Fill me with desire, I've been parched these last hundred years, died too young, left my heart out on a bookcase then forgotten, I forgot to want myself and everything I grew into.
I forgot to write and love it.
I forgot to love the darkness inside of me, the shadows that held my jaw and pulled me into you.
I forgot that you held everything I ever wanted and feared, that I traded love for fear.
My desire has not completely left, I still want everything that I lost and will feel again.
I still want you.
Historian, writer, and poet | proofreader and tarot card lover | Virgo and INTJ | dyspraxic and hypermobile | You'll find my poetry and other creative outlets stored here. Read my Substack newsletter Hidden Within These Walls. Copyright © 2016 Ruth Karan.
179 posts