loneliness is like a bubble
sometimes all we need
is for it to pop, Pop, PoP!
like a kernel in the microwave
at first, inert,
it doesn’t look like much
then, from somewhere deep within
a heated force of overwhelming power
shines through and breaks the shell.
What is it, about being a woman
that drives us, to feel lust
nay, neediness, longing, expectations
of the opposite sex
to WANT, to need, to succumb
to loving us?
It’s like taking the first hit;
wanting every moment
to inevitably feel like the next.
A drug of the heart, a survivalist’s wet dream,
suddenly the nightmare of the other.
I loathe the void I’ve created
within the absence you’ve brought;
the coward who parades around
as a hearty lion, navy suit astounding
the driver of slumber long deceased
brought back to life in a dusty dream.
Nothing is everything,
it all resonates like bass hitting a temple
wishing for change, but unwilling to understand;
the dance slowly dies
as the reality of one love lost
bites the dust, of poetic abstinence.
Heed a lonely cry, in the distance
a single ring on a finger
symbolism of something so untrue
it might as well be dead.
I’ll die too young
to see the fruition of your honesty.
Life is crisp in the fall;
transformative times of leaves and tea
a cozy mess of understanding and love
where blue skies meet orange ents
and wasps formerly flew up mountains.
The greenery seems to take on
a hue of gold and hydromel,
beckoning the old gods to come forth
and sip from her offerings.
Seasonal fruits lose their passion
and brutish cucurbits resurface in troves
eager to potage their way
into hungry city-dweller’s lives.
From the inside of my glass cage,
nothing seems all that different:
the sun’s rays hit me in all the same places
but when the doors open again,
the wind will no longer be warm.
An absence of the mind,
brings thoughtful possessions
of dancing tongues
to a staggering halt
at the foot of a mountain.
A mountain of emotions,
so steep and slippery and tall
one might as well be swallowing soap
and trying to fly upwards
floating atop bubbles of bile.
An influence of the Universe,
vast and fearless in her knowledge
pushes Lilith to move on, evermore
beyond understanding and will,
she cries and begs it all to stop.
A peaceful anguish in knowing nothing,
desperately searching for meaning
in the heart ache and the projection
of loved ones gone and forgotten,
Lilith stands alone, once more, forever.
A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
Some days I’m addicted
To the heartbreak,
The hard ache of knowing
I will never be the one.
Writing in cursive lines,
My mind wanders to strange places,
A fleeting moment where my hand
Plunges deep into my body,
To squeeze out the love,
And let it seep onto the floor.
Perilous belongings to the world of the night,
Make light of cold sheets,
And trembling lips.
The shadows unwind upon themselves,
Living in deeper creases
Than the love we share
When you hover near.
A new dawn brings a new day,
Where I wonder why
I ever believed my heart
Could break the stone of my resolve.
Like a child in need of guidance,
I welcome my wary insecurity.
Cradled safely in my arms,
I hush in her ear, caress her cheek
Remind her of the love she holds within.
Weep not for the lost,
For they are not your burden to bear.
Fear not for your soul,
For you are slave to no other.
Bear your love with pride, sweet Lilith,
For to desire the undesirable is simply a sign
That you fear your immutable strength.
You sway amidst the masked dancers,
Never quite here nor there,
Sometimes wanting what you cannot have,
As simply as opposites attract.
But no one will ever love you,
Sweet, darling, Lilith,
Because the greatest love you’ll know
Will always be the one you gift yourself.
Now. Always. Forever.”
Photo by Olexandra Pavlovka – “Self Hugging Project”
TW/CW – abuse & trauma
When you hide his smile
All you see is the denial
Of the void he holds inside.
The cowardice of the unknown
Unbeknownst of his own desires
He sombered into the depths.
His tortured mind, fraught
Try as he might, he was never taught
To keep his head above water.
His knees buckle beneath
And his eyes see red
As he throws his beloved,
Back first into the metal bed.
She cries and screams,
Ripping herself open at the seams
She’d sworn she’d never do it,
No, not this time, not again…
He pleads and wails,
Takes the knife to his throat
Rife with regret, he boasts
She’s all too aware of his threat.
Aching from the pain,
Heartbroken and defeated,
She gives up, depleted
And takes him in her arms all the same.
If only she had seen then
The emotionless expression
Of his lifeless eyes.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved