Whispers of Eden

No arms. No faces. I wish you lived closer,  So you would comfort me. Hold me. That I didn't have to wish for you, but just call on you. I don't want to pretend your warmth. I want to know it's real and existent. I want to talk about it. I want to endlessly melt my words onto you, and know your nearness without delay. I need you to speak back to me. I see you. I hear you, through the quiet hum of still separation. Your words would waltz in on me like soft autumn weather onto my chest. I wouldn't ask you why you ache, just wrap you slowly and silently, like a promise kept in silence. Orangey hues around you. A color that breathes. A color that stands for liberty. A pulse that beats, "you're held, even now." And for a moment, that stiffness in you would soften.  That strong grip would loosen, And everything would exhale. If I could, I'd skip through space and time, fold the miles, and meet you where your yearning breathes. You wouldn't have to dream ...

  I cannot walk past you. Do I remember what I looked like before? Or will I see the deformity before me? How do you look at a mirror without looking? 5 feet away, and I can open the door. 5 feet away, and I can turn off the lights, But 5 feet away, and I must stand face to face with what I see. Will I remember what I looked like before, or will I see something else. Eventually, I have to walk past you. Please, let me see who I me. My imagination is enough. It is why I'm able to see beyond sight. I can walk past you. You wait and see. This poem captures the tensions between self-perception, fear, and transformation. At the core of it all, this explores the many struggles to confront oneself, either literally or figuratively. It opens up with a tone set on avoiding, the speaker feels paralyzed by what the mirror (or self) represents. The deformity that the speaker talks about could be of identity here, but its reality is that the speaker is scared to physically walk past the mirror ...

  Did I embarrass you? Thief in the night. Put it back.  I'm not one to really care, but repetitive stealing is not my style. You stole. Every garment I have has its memory. It cannot be replaced. You have no idea of its sentiment. Some have been thrown away without my consent. From the laughter of my mother to my darling, they've been driven out. Return what is mine. Phantom in the night. This poem is about loss, violation, and sentiment - about literal theft, but also about someone familiar taking something deeply personal and irreplaceable from the speaker. It opens up with a confrontation, addressing that someone has done something in secret and has been exposed for it. An explanation is given that normally it is not a bother to care, but on this specific occasion, it was different. This theft was personal and repeated. Symbolizing emotional boundaries being crossed again and again, or someone who has taken too much.  A moment, memory, or place of identity was stolen,...