love

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Category: creative writing

Butterfly in a moths world

wp-image-1577313509

I am suffocating in the constancy of your rage,
drowning in your despair, gasping for air.
Life saturates from me, muting my energy
Zapping my life force in this captive reality.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

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Scar-less Battleground

ladyarmor

I sometimes wonder
why I argue with you,
Why I allow words to
form in my mouth
to slip across my lips
like breath giving
me life, only giving
me death instead.
Rational thought is
the sworn enemy
to the narcissistic
soldier as you point
your arrow and shoot,
and shoot again.
Yet there is no blood,
there is no wound
yet still I wear the scars of your
battleground.

Karen Hayward ©2017

To pick, to pick, to pick… 

One day I’ll tell you perhaps the way pain converts to fear deep inside of me. Some pains are too great, not worthy of the wound and disposable. A scab picked, prodded and thrown to the trash.

Some day, if pain permits, perhaps.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest. 

Lost essence staining my mind. 

I am lost in a field of missed ‘curity 

Seconds pass in the spiking of my fantasy

and the death of my hand made reality

deep in the knowledge of my fantasy, 

Lost deep in the shadows of insecurity.
Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words 

Where are you now…

I know better…I should at least, but some days I am lost without you. I search the outer confines of my mind for a corner of solitude and find you waiting, guitar and sweet honey voice calling me in with eyes that know and always knew. I have things to tell you but the ocean never listens and Poseidon keeps you busy, I wonder do you hear me? Oh the intrinsic markings of a constellation mapped from times beginning, created you said, slavery nearer the truth as the matrix of our hybrid minds was frozen. You despaired my knowing yet it formed the fragments of our bond, where are you now? To lose, it all, everything but no loss matches the loss of friendship that slipped away that day. Where are you? I know better… I should, yet still I pressed the button and listened as your voice once again echoed through my mind, a moment created then ready for now, or the next time or the time after that. Where are you now, I have tales to tell and thoughts to share, oh where are you now, I have tales to tell and thoughts to share.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Pistols at the devils dawn. 

With every passing 

second I become the 

essence of the devil. 

You create a masquerade, 

an illusion, 

I am the empty vial, 

the prostitutes vessal, 

a body with only a 

torn soul for survival.
KH©2017 

Darkest Light.

 

Photo

Darkest Light

Consuming
and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here

love came at a cost.

banshee

The oxygen in my crimson blood.

Love? Beyond spacious atoms, lust?

Love could never be our song.

Oxytocin stuck to us,

seeped from our pores,

became our alphabet.

A tug of war and I always lost

my flesh came at a cost,

to us both,

to you,

to me.

Nothing comes for free.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest

 

I will be her moat and drown in the suffocation of your spite.

A wonder to me,

so much hatred in those

eyes and spite in those words.

Atrocities of self imposed ego,

the world must be bowing down

at your unwashed feet for the axis

of the earth tilts at your command.

Come down from your mighty throne

and lay upon my skin your bite,

fists scorned in fury, scars from emotional

battlegrounds hold no depth now and

you linger on the grass verge of betrayal

your hate washes over me much

the same as your fingers at my throat,

meaningless as you pull me back into the

depths of your hell, my worth carries no

value you cannot strip me of what i do not

own. And so it is, no pain is pain without true

gain her heart so pure you tainted it in the

posion of your callous tongue, you crush her

with your heavy burden of fear in a repressed

offering of strength, you are all powerful as she

cries tears, you are king as she tends to the broken

beats of her heart, you are all…I shall pick up

the pieces as i always do, sellotape the cracks

and whisper to her that she is princess to a

Queen…I will cocoon her in love so great your

hate cannot break the barrier, i will be her wall

of defense and meet with pride your fury, i will

be her moat and drown in the suffocation of your spite.

I will be her castle and keep her safe for eternity.

You are a wonder to me so much hate within

those eyes so much poison in that heart, so much

spite in that soul, you are blind and raging in a

storm of your own creation.

 

KH*©2017

Willowed whispers.

…and in the willows
wisp of love,
where shadows reign
and death departs,
the beast ascends the
ancient walls
searching the shallow
skies of time,
to bless upon your
soul,
and mine.

Karen Hayward ©2017