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Soft Moans

Katestrawberry

plane Photo courtesy of http://luckyaviation.blogspot.com/2009/04/

Drama dripping, madness slipping from the depths of the downed twin-engine and she frowns

The frozen frame of a future dame she imagines could be the same- noticing her thoughts don’t make sense.

Did I leave the puppy outside in the rain? How could I forget such a thing? What if he’s hungry and all alone…

This must be shock, she decides-and her mangled form goes numb

Steel bends around her body binding her arms…”I’m pinned,” talking to no one in particular.

The pressure against her chest is immense

Soft moans and groans are heard behind- she strains her neck to see.

Four people are in her sights..why did we take this flight? Where were we trying to go?

Glancing out the broken window the pilot lays motionless in the snow

With no memory of how or why- she takes her last breath as a tear falls down her…

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Posted in Alcohol, bpd, Erotica, mental health, Mysterious, poetry

Cranberry Lips

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Cranberry lips leave a thin line around the rim

He doesn’t remove it- thinks it’s hot and I’m fine

Wet lips explore his mouth and he tastes me like sweet candy

Relishing the intimate moments we’re daring to share

In the quiet of the moonlight we take our time to touch

To feel his large hands cupping me it’s almost. too. much.

Love or lust? Does it matter? Do I care?

His dark eyes and warm tan body makes me want to sin

Suddenly we are skin to skin and my hand rubs up and down him.

Posted in bpd, poetry, Tragedy

Lost Daisy

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I am somewhere else not where I am lost in this daisy atmosphere going up, up, up

I was in a good place the other day but now I’m drifting away- too far, too much

As if there were no gravity to hold my soul in place and it hurts as it’s being torn out

The bpd is getting the best of me driving people I love away- even after he took me back

What kind of a fool am I that my mind torments me so as indelicacy grips my ribs and won’t let go

Will I survive another day to endure more of myself or at least what is left of this mad hat sanity

I am somewhere else not where I am and lost in this daisy atmosphere.

Posted in Alcohol, bpd, mental health, poetry

Daily Prompt, Unravel

Trying to unravel these ravings that ravish my mind tied up as they are in time

The dirtiness abounds the cravings become and I try to behave like a normal being

Mortal wounds flare up as I fondle the suppleness of her breasts in my soft hands

Unraveling these feelings until raving and partying ravishes my mind warped in time.

Posted in Alcohol, borderline personality disorder, mental health

Insomniac

She grips the pillow tightly like someone may come in the room and take it. Not the one under her strawberry blonde hair, of course, but the one her boyfriend lays on. It’s comforting this cold night. She listens to the low hum of the fan that’s constantly running and that steady droll makes her feel better. There’s a loneliness when the dark world has their eyes shut and you’re the only one awake.

Write something! Break this long, fucking dry spell of writer’s block-even if what comes out completely sucks. Your few fans may understand, being writers themselves. If they laugh at you-you’ll never know it! Hold that head high! Just remind them you’re a stoic poet with a slight sense of humor. And maybe they will come back and read more another day…

Posted in Uncategorized

Cause and Effect

Katestrawberry

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Photo Credit: http://m.blog.daum.net/_blog/_m/articleView.do?blogid=03X1h&articleno=15222229

Blending memories with the weighted glare of her disconcerted eyes, I wonder…

Was it my fault he left her for another woman as he gripped her son good-bye?

The drama builds in my terminally odd mind filled with casual complacency

From the ledge I look up at the lucky stars and feel regret rain down from the sky

When suddenly I turn around, it’s her.

As I tumble to my death, I let out a helpless cry.

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Posted in poetry, Tragedy

Freed

Have you looked back on an older poem you wrote and said, “What does this even mean?” That was me today. Lol.

Katestrawberry

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He chopped at the log with the fury of a Greek God
The foggy mountain top he raised his head to gaze
Armed sufficiently when insincerity and indecency collide
His flaming head now full of dread and thinking that he’s dead
Damning thoughts they disappear the ax he swings relieved
Fully consumed with gratitude she lays him-freed, in the ground.

 

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