The Stranger in the Mirror

I take my clothes with me into the bathroom

so I can dress before seeing myself in the mirror

before looking at my breasts that weren’t good enough

I then ask myself, good enough for who?

At what point did I lose my opinion about my own body

and at that point did I lose ownership of my skin too

 

If I drop the towel to the floor and catch sight of my image

I place my hands on my breasts and I wonder

perhaps they aren’t too small

and only your hands too big

 

I run a finger beneath them,

ask myself, is this where the knife will cut

and then question my own eyes

is this really what you want?

What of you will it make better?

when did you lose sight of who you wanted to be

 

What of the women before you?

of all the writers who caused your chest to swell with pride

when they’re words told you,

you are good enough as you

 

What of the future?

should you become what they are now

to another

What will you tell the girl, that you see as beautiful

that you see is once as you were

 

How will you tell her

you are good enough as you

when you never felt good enough for anyone

and willingly changed to fit a perception of beauty

you never even believed to be true

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The Other Side of Here

I cast a shadow across my own footsteps

and hear hers through small puddles of water

Without letting my touch skim the surface

she plays in the remnants of a still night’s storm

 

Her eyes of mine

shining in a way

that shows laughter reaches them too

In the place that rains

above and under here

 

I expect she is in company and prefers that

of more than just her own

enjoying the cold of this street

with the one whose love she never questions

The same path where I wrap my arms around my chest

hers held tight by another

While I try recall

when I first led people to believe

that I wanted them to walk away

 

She spins softly, giddy in the presence of love

a kiss placed on her lips

the answer to a question she need not ask

and standing before him

she is beautiful in the glow of his eyes

 

A second passes

to pace our world’s

as so never the two shall meet

But in it I pause

and glance to where a not so different memory took place

Beneath a sky that found no stillness in its storm

a kiss that made promises it could not keep

somewhere not far from here

The Fall of the House of [us]Her

The last of me was the first thing you noticed, between smiles that never reached the eyes and laughter that came at all the wrong moments, the end caught your attention before the beginning, and mine was caught on anything but

Where

Focus

Should

Lie

What about a girls downfall is considered so irresistible?
that tears need be wiped dry
and why must rage be quietened
for her to be
fixed

You thought my end was in the promise that next year would be the last
thing
you’d
notice
when you’d offer a kiss goodbye and I’d smile, give in return and then thank you for seeing me as
such a delightful
project

Such a worthy
Fixer up

And if you see me as a home I understand why you took the hammer to my heart
but excuse my confusion as this
Is
Where
I thought laid the hearth one day we would sit our children before
yet you fixed the cracks in the walls
only to leave all the windows open
for rain to fall inside
to stand and watch
as rot wrapped around these arms
where you’d promised to wind daisy chains
the white of their petals stained red
from the thorns of roses that restrained

before

You could step once more over my threshold
where if only you had noticed
that the first time a home is damaged
it may learn to stand again
it’s foundation hardened
however superficially

But the second time
it is left empty
it’s crumbling walls
and creaking floors
no longer irresistible

To an eye that saw what could be
rather than what already was

It will fall

Chance

Today I’m doing this thing where I love who I am

because the other side of the coin is hating that same self

that wouldn’t pay to become something

“nice to look at when you come home”

 

You see I’m sick of writing poems about how you broke me

So here’s me showing you how I put myself back together

 

I took the same mirror I’ve been looking into

watching my self-esteem drown

said Bloody Mary three times

and stared into the eyes of a woman I’ve been taught to fear

 

Her eyes were dark blue

and when she looked back at me

I felt something ignite

 

I smashed the glass for a chance at seven years bad luck

so that when fate might arrive at my door

my lips would turn up

and when she said you’ve been waiting for me

I’d laugh, say yes, and lay down the conditions of a new contract

 

One where how I look is gold

meaning it’s worthless

meaning in the end it equates to nothing

but one thing

that my eyes will be that of a childhood ghost

staring back at any man that sees me as prey

 

My body is fire

the tears I cried weren’t enough to put me out

The shame you made me feel just for existing in this form

wasn’t enough to turn me to ash

 

When I dance I move like the flames that entranced you on a dark night

and I am the light that beckoned you forward

My heart still burns with the same heat

despite the cold you let in when I opened the door

and bade you enter

 

This is not the story of me rising

like the phoenix

on a new day

This is the tale

of a woman

that never let herself die

 

 

Hey everyone!

I’m using the word chance as a word prompt today. It’s one that I gave a friend to try and then we thought it would be fun for me to try too! This is what I came up with and I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading!

 

Believe

“I believe in ghosts,” I said

“I enjoy how they fill me with dread.”

“Ghosts,” you laughed,

“bored memories of a broken past.”

 

“Not mine,” I state, finger lifted in the air,

“I mean spirits rising, swaying through a misty tear.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “you believe this world before the next,

is ours as no more than a test?”

 

“A spectral test!” I cry

“Oh, but should I die,

my answers will be all too dim,

a fear of what lacks deep within,

when truth revealed, weightless on a dusty scale,

a feather sinking ever lower, causing yawning angels pale

 

and tried and weak and all but meek,

fingers pat on heaven’s gate

ba dum ba dum

a stolen sound from final breaths

ba dum ba dum

my final beats played on holy drum

ba dum ba –

 

– but, oh! A boring life,

of lack of sin

How I but laugh and I do grin,

while gates turn in

my feet brought down on marble floors,

as I venture through Lord’s –”

 

“You lie!”

your voice is cold and raw,

all kinship vanished from before

 

A sigh, a laugh, a sneer, a jeer,

as footsteps gather ever near

How does this darkness,

all consume

this sudden confusion

clouding room

once known, once mine,

or so I thought, in other time

 

I pause, I wait, in silence seek

a calmer mind, until I find

your breath soon whisper beside my ear,

your form silhouette of ancient fear,

“You dare deceive of your life crimes,

as death knell marks your final chimes?”

 

At this I fall before your feet,

a demon I pray never meet

“Oh cruel decider of my fate,

I could not dream at heaven’s gate,

I did once stand,

my toes dipped in blessed sand,

fingertips in reach of forgiving hand.

 

Could not you reach and grasp,

as I do for forgotten past,

a sinner yes, believer no,

never guided down which path to go.

 

If god forgives as I have heard,

then surely redemption I deserve

as by a trickster I was lured!”

 

You stand before my destined door,

I kneel and tremble as afore

A hand does grasp as I did beg,

yet upon unholy pastures I soon tread.”

 

 

Hey everyone!

This is my response to The Daily Post’s prompt Believe. It’s weird where a starting line can go, ain’t it? I don’t know what I intended to do with this when I first wrote down “I believe in ghosts” but here we are iiiinnn hellllll! Damnatttiiiooonnn! Ahahah. That’s right! If I’m going I’m dragging you all with me. Sorry, not sorry, and all that. How else am I supposed to sit in a corner creepily while there’s a party going on?

Anyway, I hope this was alright and that someone enjoyed it. You, yes, you there! You enjoyed it right? Right?!

Okay, time to wrap this up. You know how easily I can go on for a ten page ramble.

Thanks for reading!

 

Sympathy

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Sympathy for you,

                                           is that for the devil.

Hidden beyond the river,  in the mouth of a god.

a tireless melody

once irresistible,

now tuneless,

rehearsed without song.

Echo forth, in search,

it finds me.

Kneeled down, wounds concealed

in mud that clings

jealously.

Magicians step, between natures gold,

amber, red,

tears of the forest,

soundless above the fall of the Earth.

In casted shade, broken shadow of dusk,

my senses tricked

I pause.

Fool,

forever tempted, by ancient dance.

Cupped salvation,

secret of ageless alchemist,

                                                               antidote to deceivers curse,

Holy water

flows over lovers palms, through marked destiny,

branded by sun, obeyed by moonlight,

 lifted upwards,

before a silhouette.

My sympathy,

Magician,

I offer to you.

 

 

 

Hello everyone!

I finally motivated myself to take part in a word prompt, just uh, a little late (this is from Tuesday). The prompt “sympathy” is from the blog The Daily Post. Is this a blog? Or wordpress witchcraftery? Not sure! I’m following it either way.

I might write another post deconstructing the poem and talking about how each part is relevant. However, poetry is supposed to be whatever is made of it by the reader, and with that in mind, I might not. The only reason I guess I’d do it would be from a writer to writer perspective. The workings out like in maths, so to speak.

The cards in the picture are from the incredibly (and I mean incredibly) beautiful Shadowscapes Tarot Deck.

I hope you enjoyed this.

As always, thank you for reading!

Arbie x

 

Midnight

I once wrote of stars,

to forget them, in love,

as they too once forgot,

and abandoned the sky

leaving the night blind

 

I once thought love a curse,

a beauty shadowed,

a glass heart shattered

and left in pieces

to shine in the morning dew

 

When I no longer looked to the sky,

had forgotten the stars,

and left myself blind,

weary of the darkest hour,

I found you in midnight

 

I found you in the abandoned sky

and eternity of our nights

 

I no longer needed to search the sky

you brought its stars to me on upturned palms

I gave you my heart

that you might hold it amongst them

 

And that we may find eternity

and eternity will be our midnight