Tuesday, December 30, 2014

confetti



 


when i was a child
my sisters used to tell me tales
of princes and kings
and dragons slain

of gold and silver
and queens and crowns
of fairies and forests
and elves and trees
and of mystical kingdoms
and glories of conquests
and of love found and lost
and gained
again

and of pain and heartbreak
dark hearts of madness
evil men and women
that shook their angry fists
at the coming of a pure dawn
and raged
against the deep velvet coat of night

and
everyone
was
always
so
utterly
happy

eventually

and my eyelashes used to flutter
like the wings of birds in flight
resting, finally
in eternal silence
like the princesses in the tales told


awaiting a kiss of a lover
awaiting her throne
awaiting her death
awaiting her birth
awaiting the day
when she
will truly
be free
from eternal 


waiting

woman

always

waiting

for whom?

waiting

for what?

waiting

why? 


the answer eluded me then
as words waltzed crescendos
across my subconscious self
curling like smoke rings
holding hands with each other
letters forming words
creating sentences
one day to be recalled
and written


Oh, such sweet innocence!

like the first snowfall
in slow motion freeze frame
landing upon the grass, still green
Autumn barely gone
and all the little children
standing outside
mouths wide open
chins tilted towards the sky
cerulean
catching snowflakes
in awe
of the wonder and divinity
of Mother Nature

pure

like the chalk lines freshly sketched
around your body
lying face down
in a pool of my

heart
broken

lying tattered and torn

shredded
like confetti

on New Year’s Eve. 




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