Jack be nimble, Jack be quick

On silent whispers of Jack’s
nimble fingers she feels the frost
clawing at her innocence. Blind
eyes and deaf ears, the street
dancers set eyes on prey, and
move and swing, in ancient ways.
As Jack’s nails etch and sketch
permanent scars upon the souls
delicate skin, this veil, oh so thin.
Oh so thin, as darkness frosts
and etches…

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words 

Toes skipping across marble floors…

I suffocate in the silent notes
of a forgotten orchestra
as it drowns me in its melodious
song, the ancient whistle of
Pan and his nymphs dancing
to an unheard tune as I lose
Sight of skies of blue.
Dressed in topaz silk skimming
bare knees, purple ribbons
toes skipping on marble floors,
I hear the devil call as he lands
upon my shore…
All air is sucked from my lungs
Life drained from my veins
Tears milked from the shadows
of my heart as the walls tumble,
As the ceilings crumble,
As the chandelier shatters…

… fragmented diamonds,
sparkle in the darkest hours,
Light in life’s void, beauty in
It’s shadows…

I could drown in the
monochrome whispers of
fantasy, lost, suffocating
in my reality…

Karen Hayward ©2018

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When twilight knows my name…

Where are you when the twilight hour is upon me? Darkness lingers across my skin where your fingers trailed, dreams within. No illumination marks my sky,
Droplets of my love are carried on Selene’s tears as she spills moon beams across your night calling to you in sleeps lullaby.
For a moment, a mere wisp of time we share sleeps quarters, we traverse between the worlds, fingering the thin veil of hope… Perhaps we can share the same dream. Sit here upon this log, beneath sun filled skies and watch the horizon spreading hues of our essence wide across the universe…

Karen Hayward © 2018

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Darkness swarms when sleep weeps

Darkness swarms at my soul
as the vivid moon drowns
beyond black storming clouds,
Distant screams.
Helplessness, pinned
by unseen
forces sucking life
from my tired
limbs.
The essence of
death pulling
at my chords,
strangulation
begging for air
as slumber tortures
my soul. As slumber
torches my soul.

Karen Hayward (c)2017

Image found on wordpress Library

man wearing black and blue mask costume
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