Soldier of ancient knowing.

mikewildyelginger1

My soul is the creation of a million broken pieces,

decoupaged together with vintage paper towels

covering cracks, slithers of white glue barely filling

the crevices of histories voice echoing through the

lost caves of innocence.

Smashed China, pastel floral’s

lost in the vivid hues of self destruction…I wear my scars

with the whispered honor of shame, the rivets caused

by the dull blades have become storage boxes of rational

thought, irrationally taped together in tears that fall only as

darkness reigns…Even I must stay relatively sane.

And deep within this constellation of thoughts I search

the battle ground for your essence. Praying I will find you

safely jumping across the stepping stones of

my existence, but alas my horizon is clear and yet

I feel you so near. A soldier of love I find you

peeling back torn memories, embracing the deep

etches of self doubt and kissing away the deep echos of

darkness that shroud me from light. My honored Knight

taking arms against this lifelong fight.

My soul…

is the creation of a million broken pieces,

decoupaged together with your love and vintage paper towels

covering cracks, slithers of white glue and your gentle insistent

whispers of encouragement  filling the crevices of histories

voice echoing through the lost caves of my innocence.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image Michael J.Garland. ©2017

Cupids broken bow.

Have I told you I will take,
have I said I do not care.
My soul is filled with hate
I’ve nothing left to share.

I’ll grab upon your soul
and tear apart your heart
I’m cupid’s golden bow
I own his diamond dart.

Have I told you I am broken
missing tiny parts,
Have you heard when I have spoken,
It’s far worse than a shattered heart.

I’ll take upon my feet and steal your every thought,
Hold you in your seat,
and give what you have sought.

I’ll own your battered soul,
and take your dying spirit,
then everyone will know,
and few will believe it.

I’ll mark you as my own
teeth bared you will bleed,
that essence it will grow
and I’ll take your fucking seed.

Have I told you I am coldness
I know only skin and sin,
Have I said I need your  warmness,
to fix this broken thing.

Karen Hayward ©2016