Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

restored by nature
the pearls of february
knitted themselves into a tapestry
that lasted until june,
and i laid covered in the snow;
the very thing you said you'd rescue me
from became my demise—

i rose from the shadows of 
dreams i could no longer remember,
and constructed myself clumsily
on the wings of my love for you;
but you shot down the plane
watched as it crashed into the ocean and burned—

it felt like an eternity
before i was healed of your name,
but nature has a habit of sewing me back together
in peace and washing away the debris
of the most ugly humans.

real monsters 
monsters are real
they're disguised in flesh
call themselves humans
some are good
others bad,
and others still shades between;

i remember how our kiss
startled the leaves from trees
i thought we were usagi and maramou
with a love so pure
turns out it was more like prince charming
and cinderella—

you'd leave me in the wood
to find another,
and so i discovered the worst monsters
pretend they are good to devour
the hearts of unsuspecting maidens and lads
without a morsel of regret.

your own misery

what you don't understand is
i am the phoenix, i am the sun, i am the flames
your blood will be etched in the sun set
when my fury is done with you;
you told me once
when the flowers grew and the bees flew
and snow melted that i had no
as a child of winter
i think you thought your coldness was a sacred
white that could not be burned
even if you were not as pure as ivory driven snow,
and you expected that i would succumb 
to your power;
but i am a wild summer's child
born and built of flame
whose wings never retire
i will reconstruct myself from the ashes of any chaos—
so i think this is the part where i say checkmate
take back control of my life and watch you fall into the 
mires of your own misery.

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