Breaking Chains

When the hurt floods in
and your traumas
drain your green
and starve to death
your newly-sprouted dream,

when the cobwebs reappear
and re-chain you
to faulty self-beliefs, 
when you bow your head
and turn with shame from me,

know that I 
will always remain
to break the cycle
of love leaving you again.

I will lend my green 
and yellow and light,
and whisper that I love you
still and more and despite

like you have done for me
in this beautiful, mutual growing

of self-love. 

Perhaps True Love is Not

Perhaps true love is not
long-lost soulmates reunited
or two hearts shaped
puzzle-piece- or locket-and-key-like;

perhaps it’s not just one
but any two who
can fit just right
if each only trades in
fears for freedom
to rise as shared light,

and in that lift,
opposite of fall,
that is when hearts
are melted and forged

into the fitting pieces
or key and lock
to open the chest
and remember
what is love,

and what if love’s touch is not
a lightning spark but the hearth
that holds the flame’s warmth
long into the darkest hours,

or the faithful embers
staying aglow
for the return of air
to ignite the soul.

Beyond The Window

Looking out my bedroom window
a long while, late on a spring day,
opposite weather inside of me,
a seductive swirling veil of gray, 

to choose which to follow,
if either non-path at all, 
takes the breaking of the trance
when both come so subtly to call.

I didn’t wait for the new day;
I chose the remainder at hand,
clipped the leash to the too-excited dog,
laced my sneakers and simply began. 

I let a trickle of hope in
on the way to the pond
to stir the stagnant layer
hovering weightless
but still clouding
my heart.

Perhaps I could find 
beauty or love or both
in my always-open lens 
that filters and feeds
light to soul. 

I did. For it is always there. 
Mother Nature never folds 
her extended arms;
She unconditionally heals,
cares. 

I knew a new day
would soon come
tomorrow, 
and all would 
feel better again, 

but the thing about
choice and action is
that Momentum 
can also be a dear
friend. 

I did not wait for New Day.
I drank the sunset medicine instead. 
It brought me soft romance
and a happy non-end. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Yellow Blooms

Yellow and white wild blooms
I insist remain nameless
I contemplate picking for you
to arrange in sill sunlit,
but I can’t do it;
I keep them rooted
but skim their scent
over fingertips,
and a fallen one tuck
in a long, silky tress,
face tilted up,
b r e a t h i n g  i n
this existence
in yellow floral dress;
the sun kisses shoulders,
and I sense your jealously
in our cottage
working remotely.
Heading back,
I hear the kettle whistling
cheerfully for me….

Feel Me

Close your eyes,
and I will, too;
feel me there,
this touch brushing 
slowly over you,
soft as an exhaled breath
on flesh…
fingertips, lips, 
smoothly caress, 
the gentlest 
skimming,
hair trickling 
across chest,
whispers float
into your ear,
melliferous voice
delivering the elixir 
to each fear, 
sweet everythings
that reach
with flowing, warming heat
every last heart-ailment 
to heal.

Feel
me. 

Into yours, 
my fingers weave;
hands clasp
organically.
So easy
it is 
to love,
to release
all inhibitions:
free fall
into me. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

I.love.Leo.Sayer! I forgot all about him! Been belting this out in the car lately, on repeat…

Dissolving into Grace

Saving grace,
whole heart back
in your arms,
you hold all of me
as me;
I never knew
how non-words
could feel the best route.
Unspoken is our reset,
mutual forgiveness,
moving on
but not leaving
anything unaddressed.
We understand,
silent resolutions,
in the simple language
of love.

Do you mind if I stay
extra near
awhile,
to just exist
in this balance,
a respite
from the drama
of being so much?

Sometimes
(more often than not),
I exhaust
myself
with this wild heart
and wild soul
I house.

Hold me tight, my love.
You are the only one

who can.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise