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Read Me

Read me with trembling hands
tracing the shape of my eyes that see
the beauty that you’re hiding from me
let your lips glide across mine
a whisper’s breadth in between
trembling fingers flow hesitantly
upon curves and valleys hidden
read me as you would your secrets
carefully, and with reverence
unfold me gently and we’ll go exploring
you and me in the darkness and light
we’ll find the fire that we yearn for

-The Elusive Scribe 01312017-

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It Was My Turn to Dig Again

churchofnobody.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

it was my turn to dig again on the ground,
where we buried the secrets we chose to forget.
Covered now by decaying leaves of the watchful tree
that stood like a quiet sentinel that towered
over our sweat slicked bodies.

did we bury our secrets that deep?

it was my turn to dig again but all that i could see
were tattered remains of memories that fell apart,
as my fingers scraped them off this part of the earth
where we buried them with our promises and tears.
 
am i digging for something that no longer exists?
or did we bury what used to be us beyond our reach,
left to die a silent death with the worms feasting
on souls that are still trapped within beating chests?

-©The Elusive Scribe 030414-

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Help me unravel, the secrets that lie within you,
the stories you’ve never shared, the dreams you’ve yet to attain.
Let me unwrap the covers you’ve enveloped yourself with,
even if it means finding the darkness you refuse to let the light shine on.
I’ll take you as you are, with all your scars and pains,
your looks are just superficial, what lies beneath is more important.
Don’t hide from me, don’t shy away,
there is beauty in you that has yet to be revealed.
I am here, I won’t go, I won’t run away,
even if you show me the abyss you’ve been staring into,
and all the demons inside your head,
I’ll still be by your side, holding your hands tight.
Until you realize that you’re perfection incarnate,
in my eyes and will always be.

-eamarifosque 072213-

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The Doll

creepy...

creepy…

The Doll

creepy doll sitting by the ledge,
dirt encrusted face can’t hide
its blue eyed stare that knows,
all the people’s secrets that they tell,
as they pass by never knowing,
that there’s a doll listening to their stories
with that wide open stare.

I found this doll sitting on the ledge of a gated vacant lot. I had the feeling that I was somehow being watched. So, I took a picture of it and decided to make a poem just for the sheer joy of it.

-The Elusive Scribe 032713-