I handed my heart to you
in terrible self-complacency
holding my last breath
between pale fingers
weaving this moment
after little death
while your scent lingers
now thoughts
like dead birds
lie on the tombs
of desires
Near Death Experience by LindaMarieAnson, literature
Literature
Near Death Experience
I still remember his kiss
that urgent, hard kiss
insistent and sensual
and that moment I miss
he still keeps on calling
me in my dreams seductively
with the rich timbre of his deep voice
the siren's song
and in every step I make in my life
he follows me invisibly
but I see
him in the children around me
in autumn leaves
and the snow that covers the branches
and the old woman that sweeps
the butts of cigarettes into the sewer
it all feels unfinished, like hanging in the air
death will come for me
in her green limousine -
pink foams like glittering gloss on your lips,
the smell of milk and blood,
the absolute scent of yours,
it makes me feel strangely peaceful
but this shake is mixed with repentance -
I'm sorry you're leaving
along with the Laughing Priestess
and won't come back -
you will send me a piece of soap, won't you?
I want to rub away your caresses,
wash your tears and goodbyes off my skin,
I want to be clean and cleansed
after your death -
in a tiny box meant for shiny rings
I will send you gangrenous flakes of my skin
so you can chew on them in the long early mornings
when everyone'
my ghost days ain't over -POEM by LindaMarieAnson, literature
Literature
my ghost days ain't over -POEM
feels like I've lost
a piece
of something important
a thought
a glimpse
a memory
of my mission or permission
to live
and not just keep on surviving
the undying
isn't that what they call the life
of the ones who left and came back
but never really did
stay on one side
of the mirror
That day Death wasn't in mood.
When we were drinking morning tea, I asked her, what's a matter. And she answered with her head bowed low.
-You know, sister, I suddenly felt sorrow. For what I am.
And for the reason you don't have your own personal death, sis - I thought, and poured more green tea in her cup.
We were sitting in her little garden house, and in the forest that spread all around us, birds were chirping merry songs.
raise your head
reach out your hand
and use the moment
violently
I will dig into
your midnight-mare
and the kiss on the lips is
a cold threshold of mortuary