• bashful_wordsmith 6w

    My skin glows red when this itch inside of me crawls all over and if I am saying it poetically, it is just me wondering where my words go when I am not pressing the keys with my fingertips shuddering in the vibration. Otherwise, it's an allergy which I can't place.

    Sometimes I miss the thrill of my incoherent outpour on this glowing screen.

    Tell me where do we go when from the spaces between your bones, you find dreams and fears placed tenderly? Or how in the back of your mind there are echoes of the songs you used to sing.

    These desert skies split apart when the rain stops and sometimes in the dusk it looks like the clouds are on fire while the land is still overcoming from the humid kisses. My heart is still trying to understand the shape of the skyline of my soul because when I look above, I imagine these constellations telling me their stories. The other side knows all too well how these are nothing but gases burning and glowing.

    What I am trying to say is that I too am sometimes split apart like my desert skies. In this heat which I am cradled in, I have learned to bloom and so I laugh when July comes but when August steps her toe in this incoming pool, sending ripples across with her touch, I find my eyes blurry and my lips whispering to her to be kind to me.

    She says she will be if I am too.

    #writersnetwork #mirakee #readwriteunite #pod #writersofmirakee #writerscommunity #poem #poetsofmirakee #poetryisnotdead #writers #august

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    What I am trying to say is that I too am sometimes split apart like my desert skies. In this heat which I am cradled in, I have learned to bloom and so I laugh when July comes but when August steps her toe in this incoming pool, sending ripples across with her touch, I find my eyes blurry and my lips whispering to her to be kind to me.

    She says she will be if I am too.

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