I Need A Breather

Black beads on my arm Black ball on my pointer Black moles on my face Black sweater off the shoulder Black hairs on my legs Black locs lay on my breasts And on my black skin The light reflects warm My browns blend seamlessly Making its way into my eyes A frequency of beauty Accompanied by your face Within the black you reside Underneath the lowered laces Of my black lashes  Where your brown eyes meet mine The day ending with My black shadow inside Where everything is alright -Verdure  

Steady now. The rain can only get as loud as the amount that was held. A stillness doesn't guarantee no tears will fall. Teetering between a causeway, and a dam. Steering myself to keep the upper hand. On myself. A clearing that's faulty. My lenses collect sand. Steady now. Be easy, how? I dropped so much  along this condemned bridge. The tears have fallen. My right leg still bounces. With everything going seemingly well. While holding living hands. That never seems to fit. Which is when I start to tilt. Steady now. Steady. -Verdure

The waterfall makes pebbles. Except they don't sink. The Koi orange and yellow, Like the fallen leaves, And the water pebbles, Are all floating still, but free. To have warmth, only water can feel. With the ripples of water spreading the warmth Like a web. It isn't until the wind arrives, 'Til the clouds darken the sky,  And a tattered leaf falls into my lap That I realize.  To be felt is to be alive.  -Verdure

A one-sided happening.  Bearing down on my brain. A trek through the shrubbery. I am the head of the horse. With the word: CAUTION As the headdress. Accepting this occurrence is not  Foretold, Rather, under the impression Of the danger that lies ahead. Something that sleep can't interrupt, And death can't welcome. Because there will be no rest, and when the last drop of blood is spilled, Only then will it all concede.  Nothing will be left. -Verdure 

I'm going home. To a place we both call it. It will always be a surprise now. A surprise followed by smiles. And it's always worthwhile, To hear what's new in the past and now. To crouch down in front of you. Gently waking you from a nap. And from my view, It's a surprise. Followed by a smile. And we laugh. To hear your thoughts out loud. Including the ones that hurt. The ones I don't hear from miles away. Because a simple call,  For me,  Would make this feeling worse. I can listen now. I remember how much you love to converse. So we talk and talk all day. You repeat you're going to bed. You repeat everything you say. You taught me to remember you.  The way it should always be. I remember your childhood stories.  I remember your cheeky replies. I remember your daily routine. I know now what makes you cry. I remember your favorite ice cream. Anything chocolate you want. When I cheer my ice cream, With your chocolate sundae. We laugh. A simple memory of our love. ...

My skin is sticky. From the sweat sitting on my flesh. Must be how the lake feels, With the pollen clinging onto it. The breeze pushes our adhesives away. I never knew there were fish worth catching here. The bobber hitting the water suggests otherwise. A family of ducks. I think family sounds more amusing than the correct term. A family member almost got snatched by the bobber. I'm the head of the class. The heated stone is my seat. And my students are the turtle heads. The moon is out, so it's a night class, I suppose. Evenings like these make me miss Lenora. It's much quieter there. Can't get any quieter here. But it's still like home. The water is beautiful. So I am grateful. There are so many turtle heads. It feels like it's just me. -Verdure

Georgia sweet. With a twang of heat. Like a Mickey's spicy marg. And the cucumber rum from the jazz bar. I've been here, In the Big Apple. With the sweet being undertoned. The heat bein' worse than back home.  I've been here too long. Half a decade this winter. Feelin' like I lived it all this past week in my bed. Like the words I wrote in my first year,  I still dream of flying far. I will end up everywhere, carrying on. Yet, like many nights, I'm sitting on a patio at a bar. Being tempted by a Mickey's spicy marg, That I know will be Georgia sweet. With a twang of heat. -Verdure

In more ways than two, I am selfish. Only thinking of how I feel And what I know. I retreat within myself. A wall, taking place where I stood before. With guilt suddenly landing on my shoulders. But since I am selfish, I ignore it. And keep it moving. I am selfish in more ways than two,  But never more than five. So sometimes when the wall goes up  And the guilt comes down,  My truth goes against it. While my body caves in on itself. While my heart starts to break. I have my selfish ways. This I know and can admit. A part of me I will never shake. Cuz' as unfair as it sounds,  I find it unfair to ask more of me. When someone as selfish as I has already given you so much of me. -Verdure