Just Breathe

The Cooking Writer

She sits under the weeping willow,

it’s tears surrounding her in sorrow

She wanted to preserve her heart,

keep it from the pain of loosing another

For now all she can do is just breathe

Her eyes scan the open meadow,

it was secluded, no one to comfort her

She wishes to be happy,

have some kind of deliverance from her broken heart

But for now all she can do is just breathe

Must she sustain this misery?

Can her heart be plentiful again?

Will she find another love?

She slumps to the cold damp earth

There were no tears left,

they had dried up like a summer drought

She tries to just breathe

Suddenly she feels another  presence

She  looks through sadden eyes,

wondering if her prayers have been answered

In the distance she sees something,

is it him or an illusion?

She waits as the figure gets closer

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Hello

The Cooking Writer

Hello,

you don’t know me,

but I wish you did

my heart will be unsatisfied

until I make myself known to you

Hello,

one simple word,

but I’m unable to speak when I see you

my legs fail to move, they want obey

all I can do is stare

Hello,

you’re so handsome

your dimples make me smile

our bodies  would fit together like a puzzle

the sound of your voice is like  music to my ears

Hello,

I know you see me staring,

the want in my eyes does not lie

Do you feel the same?

Do you want me too?

Hello,

I close my eyes and I see you

we’re arm in arm,

your lips teasing mine

you’re undressing me with your eyes

Hello,

one simple word I have decided to say

all you can do is turn me away

I put one foot in front of the other

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Rosy red

My Screaming Twenties

The colour of my smile

isn’t the rosy red the fairytales

said it would be.

It’s smeared clear lipgloss

and the salty taste of tears.

It’s yellow, blue or every shade

breathing within a rainbow.

It’s pulled taut, barely shown

or the pearly-white gates on judgement day.

It’s good enough – rosy red or not.

It’s good enough

to be any colour I wish

my happiness to be.

---

In response to day 6: the colour of ______, #onceuponaseptember

Photograph & poem:© Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

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I didn’t do much blogging recently because I was busy painting

I didn't post to my blog as much as I did before because I was busy on another source of joy recently. Here are some of them.

So Sweet

Eye to Eye

Window To The Soul

Mustang

Postcard from life lately

Photo by Renato Abati on Pexels.com

my love as a million wild horses galloping in the chest,
and the most tender smile every night I lay next to him…

my love has the power of a million thunders in the storm,
and the warmest blanket in his embrace…

my love has the strength of a million tides battering the shores,
and the sweetest lullabies inside a seashell…

my love healed my wounds, and accepted my scars,
he keeps me safe and sound beyond all madness.

COPYRIGHT

All posts and short stories on this blog are the works of @so.B.it and @postcardfromlifelately. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without the express and written permission of the author is strictly not allowed. You may use excerpts and links or reblogs of this material provided that complete and clear credit is given to so.B.it and with clear directions to the original content.

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When I Die (with audio)

Poetkisses

When I Die

When I die

bring me back

to Spring

in the Garden of Wild Things.

I would lazily lay

among

the Lupines

& Weeping Willow Trees

for all eternity.

Verdant mosses

would cradle my dreams

as the Earth would awaken

in teams of

lavish greens

& rich hues

that came alive only for me.

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Mask..

Random thoughts

Nowadays people are so cold..

Maybe there’s something that has made them the way they are..

Something has happened and all the balminess of their heart has gone..

Sometimes I wonder, what it could be..

A torned heart?

A shattered trust?

A splintered soul?

Maybe they aren’t that hard,

And it’s just a guard.

A mask that hides their vulnerable side..and helps them in pretending that they are careless and cold hearted..just like everybody else..

And behind that mask..there is someone who is as soft as water, as warm as morning sunshine..

As the beautiful quote says..

People only go cold because it hurts so much to get burnt.

© Dreamer

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