The First Word

i am the me between Demeter and deter,

the spine in supine absent you,

i am the gap in Agape,

the age in language after you.

i am the war in swarm,

the arm in swarm,

the vows inherent in vowels,

the asp writhed from grasp,

the tor at the top of the storm.

i am the i between deify and defy,

this axis aching inside

the migration of starlings,

the i between vapor and viper,

between mire and more,

i am the sword interred

between expire and explore,

i am that Eve—

she who broke

a fever to forever.

-Kalliope Amorphous

your absence— severed hands decaying in the hollow of a skinned drum.

“..whatever/ returns from oblivion/ returns to find a voice.”

— Louise Gluck

Sinking Like Quicksand

I rusted like metal
left out to the rain.
Neglected I’m left
once again.

With no one to help,
I fell deep into the abyss.

Sinking;

in this quicksand
that pulls me under.
With a seemingly
unending hunger.

Shadows Of A Ghost.

This darkness is so vast
I feel like I’m falling so fast.
And with every fall I fear
I’ll never make it out of here.
That one day you’ll wake and
I’ll simply disappear,
as if I was never really here.

My first poetry book release from a collection of poems 2016-2019. About reflection of my home and leaving to try to create my own.

The video is a form of reiki for those suffering at this time ♥️love and healing

My Friday morning tasted like salt and despair

Tastes like “I don’t care” but I do

Tastes like failure

Tastes like I don’t know

But it tastes

It’s bitter

It’s unloving

It’s uncaring

It’s my smeared makeup

My stuffed nose

My wet cheeks

Kiss me

Kiss me Friday morning

So I know just how bitter sweet you are

My stiff face

My cold fingertips

Your warm discouragement

Our cold heart

My hot head

What should we make of this?

A sigh of capitulation

I am Friday morning

This is bigger than all of us…

Instagram:Holisticeight88

Twitter: queerblackwitch

Just once, can somebody please

tell me how broken I look under these dim lights,

tell me they noticed the dark bags under my eyes.

Just once, hold my hand and whisper ever so softly

that you see them - all the demons battling

underneath the fabricated smile everyone believes.

Just once, can someone please

look beyond my flawless facade?

Permission to Write|Girl Trauma Poetry

Tor Lowell

Eating Too Much—Tor Lowell | Mollyhouse, Issue 2

Tiny Spoon Literary Magazine, Issue 8

Between Breathes

Late, late at night

Like a bird, I was taking on flight

Dark, darkness in the sky

A light, a life, had joined my eyes

Music moved me

Like silk on a sleeve

Like blossom from a tree

Like someone who loved me

I-I-I found something new

Something worth writing too

Something that sounded like you

Day, daylight makes my night

Worth joining into the fight

The sound, the signs of being alright

Taste better than sweet

Sweeter than honey

More valuable than any currency

The taste of my mind

Slips from my tongue

Like the sounds of love

And touches everyone

- nail-in-the-wall ~ © ~ [12.10.19] (I was watching one of those cool harmony videos on YouTube and remembered an old writing technique I used to love using. Its amazing! And I used it to write this.)

love is–

i’m working hard on meto be better at us

love is–

i made you soup feel better ok it’s hot be careful

love is–

just hold me just hold me just

love is–

i need to hear you laugh again

love is–

different for everyone but it is always

everything.

Cold Shoulder

We play this game of hide and seek

Always lurking just to leave

Five missed calls,

Three or seven texts

I’m watching and waiting for my next fix

Winter’s claws are sinking in;

And lonely nights make the shy grow bolder

But it gets colder over your cold shoulder

Than I ever gave this long winter credit for

love has no fixed face, love has many. 

i taste love on the lips of my lover. 

i hear love amidst my family’s laughter. 

i rest my head on love, 

on the shoulders of my mother. 

i feel love in my arms and beneath my palms,

and sometimes it looks like a purring cat 

or a sleepy-eyed dog.

to truly appreciate the essence of love 

is to recognize that it can be as diverse 

as it is abundant—and then suddenly,

love is not merely somewhere.

it can be anywhere and everywhere.

-“Valentine’s Day”