The epiphany of lust

The epiphany
wasn’t the
realisation that
he saw her
for the facets
of self that
she was.

or the way
he could see
through every
veil she wore.

Or how he
seem to know her
flaws on a first
name basis
caressing
them from
Existence…

No, the epiphany
was the realisation
that he craved
the taste
of her soul in the
same way she
craved his…

Karen Hayward © 2018
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Do the angels sigh when they see me?

Some days I look upon my reflection and wonder if the angels sigh in realisation. As the kettles boils I reach for
my pyjamas to take away the morning chill. I make myself a sweet tea and sit by the open window listening to the start of a new day. I hide my hands deep in the sleeves and pull the top up over my mouth I want the warm comfort. My lips move against the soft fabric a few times before I realise I am wearing my pyjama top backwards. I shrug it off, I am warm, I don’t care and ultimately as j realise my pyjama bottoms are also on backwards, I figure at least I am consistent. And I wonder if the angels ever sigh in realisation.

Karen Hayward ©2016

I need the flutter of wings.

 

 

I lean back, close my eyes

let my body fall with the swing.

My stomach lurches as

a thousand butterfly wings

tickle my stomach as fear

swells with every drop.

This is living.

The fear that beats inside me,

the excitement that rushes

through my body into my fingers,

into my nervous giggle as

my world drops down and

then rises, high, high above

the clouds and I can look the

sun straight in his face.

And then I remember as that

excitement rushes through me

this is living.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

Imperfect reflection of the chaotic beauty.

I am imperfect,
perfectly
Imperfect.
I am flawed
Flawlessly
Flawed.
I am everything,
And i am nothing.
I am someone,
And
I
Am of course,
No one.
I am a reflection,
Of a shadow,
A whisper,
A silent echo.
That only a few can sense.
I am a goddess,
borne from the red moon.
I am a succubus,
Deep carnal desire.
I am a heathen,
A sister of the devils army,
I am an elemental,
A sister of earth,
The Angels stand at my side,
The devil along for the ride.
I am perfect,
Perfectly
Imperfect.

The defiant process of elimination.

If you were one
Or the other,
A friend or a lover,
I could put you in a box
With a secret knock.
I could throw away the key,
and never look
And never see,
You could become,
a worn out
Memory.

But you’re neither and nothing,
And so entirely something,
An oddity of life,
With a common law wife.

And i think that i wouldn’t,
and Know that i shouldn’t,
But live with the regret…
I couldn’t.
So i know that i should,
And know that i would,
And am simply left pondering,
Whether i could.

Through the blue into the universe.

I looked up.
For such a long time, i forgot,
To look up.
To search past the filthy smog, to look through the heavy rain cloud with its constant angry face, I forgot.
I forgot that others can see me, hear me. I forgot.
I looked up and i saw blue, blue skies everywhere, soft pale blue, deep, sinking blue, blue everywhere, so perfect in its imperfect form, i watched as the sky grew dark, the blue hiding away from the moon, from the stars, from the world and i understood, and as the stars twinkled against the blackest of skies. I understood.
I forgot, to look up. To see what they see, to hear what they hear. I forgot.