Scrabbled_scribbles_

Everyone gathers, fastening their bonnets The circus is about to open Take your places Clowns and jesters mount their spheres Balancing life with a practised fear We begin as kids With balls as soft as cotton Every stumble, every tumble Falls into clouds No balance, just laughs out loud The ground never knew our names Red and black diamond skins colours that faded long ago Our faces creased like linen Holding the falls, we never took The stars above burn bright  Soft laughter at what we’ve become Ssh… ssh… they’re here, The ringmaster snaps the silence. We stand, Fastening our borrowed smiles Beneath our feet The spheres whisper our names The skirts flare in the air Like blue bright answers dresses built for motion No rest shall be given dancing as if the floor is lava Spheres, the only fragile proof of safety No centres, Only orbits, A quiet agreement with gravity We never signed.  Unlike our faces, The dresses forget each fold unlearns itself, Each motion erases the last. We...

Yellow and orange in the bones The red that grows, A deafening silence  From the crows. The tongue that crumbles Under the rumbles of floors I no longer desire  To carry brave bones My words sprout out like vines. Each with a few broken twines Dying slow Like old wine.  Love blossoms. Yet it leaves its marks. Is love only enduring? The harsh and the dark? Why do words cut deeper than a sword? I no longer desire my truth. All it leaves is bareness and bruises.  Every confession empties me more. Even if I was the right one This blame game He said, she said. Why am I left being the sick one? All the wrong I ever did Must I only repay the sins? Like a rat going on a hunt I am prey to the words. If I say I am the bad one. If I don't I am still undone. Love is blind. but not to the wound of words. Love is not for me. I am only a corpse. nodding to every question. So I keep swallowing these bitter seeds. Hoping they don’t grow back as weeds But the silence of the coils arou...

Walking a blue path, silent No one in sight No left or right Just yellow light Birds whisper softly in air Who is she? Where does she dare? Flowers blooming, Her face - all gloomy  Her presence falls, a deep shadow Ruining the serene path she swallowed The trees that cast their dappled shade, Recoil their limbs; all kindness swayed. They don’t want their shade to touch her grim face Don’t want their grace to grow faint.  She walks in all silence No birds chirping by the voilets.  No breaths,  No whispers, Just her lies and her blisters.  Her presence damps  All those she glanced at. Her face, a cloud beneath the sun, Like every joy has come undone But one who wounds her more than this More than the tree who called her an abyss More than the floral dismiss  Is the voice that pricks her It whispers softly, sharp as glass: "You're nothing. This won’t pass." "You're a failure, a dead spark." "Unseen, unheard, always crying in the dark." Birds weren’t w...