Anything can sound like a voice if you need to hear one –
kitchen white noise – the refrigerator humming,
creaks in the plumbing are less scary if you long for just someone
(anyone?) to hear you (maybe I heard footsteps on a creaky floor).
My Thoughts Bottle|Blog
Fossils of the human heart – A poem
I shed dead skin in a trail
of diary entires and old poems,
snaking through my life’s path –
the fossils of the human heart,
footprints, preserved in stone.
pink – a poem
my cheeks flush easily,
outsides matching my insides,
brimming with feelings of
pink – blissfully enchanted,
rosy and love-filled,
Silence as a weapon – A poem
We blink silence back and forth,
Secrets beclouded by our eyes,
A tightrope tension between lips,
Or hearts, together we’re tongue-tied.
Life is long – A poem
Grit your teeth and bite your cheeks,
Craft the moment with your bare hands.
Let the words slip out, just in case
They’re never on the brink again.
Give your heart, clasped with shaky fingers
And fight for it – life is short.
Serpentine – A poem
There could be many things cloaked by a snakeskin –
A wobbling thought weaving through tall grass,
Or a spine shattering dread hissing
And twisting it’s way up your neck,
Or a wrist worming it’s way around your waist
With fingers walking where they aren’t welcome.
Falling into a cosmic sea – A poem
A slow pull into nothing,
They sink away into distant space,
And my arm goes with them
In a straining reach to draw them back.
But my arm only stretches and stretches
Into spaghetti linking shoulder to wrist.
Hands like silk – A tanka poem
skin like velvet, hands
like silk – folding into mine
imbued with the warmth
of your heart, like a blanket
soft to touch, like love, like you
Where the monsters live – A poem
Shadows here are plentiful and strange –
The dark has glowing eyes but no eyelids
(They never blink). Peculiar and estranged,
Here is a place where the monsters live.
Catch me before I fall – A poem
Your brain speaks without thoughts if you listen.
Humming in clenched teeth tension, creaking
like an old door or chattering (but I’m not cold)
Lauren Kathleen 