Splitting the atoms of thyme

Time spent swimming in thyme
blue oceans of salted seas
flickering flames of warmth
and silence, just soft silence.
Like an eruption of chaos
volcanic lava spilling,
You rise, she rises
Noise erupts
Tiny atoms split
Split again
Split again
and split again
my deamon shatters among
this dark trilogy
of thought as thyme
fades, as time disperses
to become empty thoughts
in worthless verses.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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If our dreams were real, i would already know your feel.

Imagine, for a moment,
That our every thought was made of atoms,
Thousands of atoms that,
Somewhere,
Somehow,
Lived out our every strand of delicate thoughts.
Another world,
Another place,
A different pace.
Every time i dreamt of you,
It could be real,
I could be wondering about a touch of your skin,
That i have already felt.
You may have already have held me,
Tight,
Through the night,
As i slept.
Perhaps, already, in our dreams that we do by day by choice, and by night without choice, perhaps there, i have shown you, that i care.
If our every thought and every dream,
Are atoms in another stream,
Then you will know,
Already,
How i long to make, you glow.
You’d have already have heard my whispers,
Telling you,
Mister,
That you are so much more,
then a simple corr,
So much soul,
So little hate,
I think you are
Devils bate.