This is my demise

And some they will rise
stake claim, a silent mine,
Me, this is my demise
I hear the shadows call
feel the shroud as it falls
Naked, hiding behind a wall,
scared now to bare
fruit of liberations, share,
how? When I can’t compare.
The wobble of the pedestal
from above, I can only fall
and I slip through the half
truths of your fingers, a
silent implosion lingers.
The bound ascent of waltzing
flirtations,
nullified realisations.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image via wordpress

A trail of massacre in my wake.

redhairwings

Menstruating blood seeps through the

cracks of my hormones plunging me into the depths

of normality, to be female, so easily led by useless

emotions that spill across cheeks.

A jolt into reality to see what you see,

instead you show me the tainted

pages that already haunt my thoughts.

Aneath the crimson onslaught

I tear your soul from

words fought,

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Words and image.

Insecurities rush, the blind side.

img_20160610_182202.jpg

It claws at me gently as hormones rise,

I know the uncertainty of insecure skies,

When enough, leaves and I see not a thing

Oh how I know what the short rise will bring.

But if nothing is all and all is free,

There’s nothing left for my broken soul, to see.

A blank page and empty space

Expect nothing, leave negative space.

I’m a whisper, a silhouette a bland empty ghost,

So alone I stand and alone I host.

Karen Hayward ©2017

No footprints in the snow.

snow

If only.you could see the shattered

remains of my reflection in this

smeared mirror, lost without detection.

Grey eyes searching for your existence

Emptiness ignorantly insistent.

And you are gone

no footprints in the snow

And you are gone lost

the one I thought I know.

Have you ever turned to find me gone?

Through the storms that crashed

The words we lashed, the distant echo

that shattered glass, dooming love so very fast.

Unknown future, murky now in tainted past

Have I ever wandered off our path?

And you are gone

no foot prints in the snow,

And you are gone.

The one I thought I know.

Loyal blood stained on carpets edge

Hooked up to an open needle, synthetic

replacement, drug of choice.

Loyal blood spills across lovers voice, through

The air we breathe, and still you question me?

And you are gone

no footprints in the snow

And you are gone

the only love I’ve known.

And you are gone,

the only love I know.

KH©2016

Image found on Pinterest.

Emerald green skies.

*sorry for the mood swinging poetry last night and this morning, my draft box got a bit full over the past two weeks, I’m just clearing that baby out :-).

If for a moment I pause and allow myself to hope then my world becomes a hue of emerald green. Your words become a recycled recreation of the echoed loves of your past. Your wanton touch becomes a passing need and I wonder who you need as I sleep. Your kindness shared becomes flirtations and I wonder who your for. If for a moment I pause and allow myself to hope, I imagine the warmth that surrounds you and beauty, that natural source that draws in all men and I try so hard to not compare. I consider the depths of your charm how it can draw in the beating heart of any female as you utter love in the language of your choosing.  If I pause and give hope to this fantasy then my world is plunged into a hue of emerald green for all I cannot have, for all I cannot show, for all I have no hold over.

Karen Hayward ©2016