Two Blades

we reach for the light
we reach for the warmth
of the dawning sun
of any other 

when the shadows come
when the ice forms
each part beautiful 
naturally born

we reach 
in hope
we reach 
in need
we gravitate
we discreetly lean 

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trying not to show
the desperation 
the fear
of becoming 
too far frozen

we reach 
to feel
the thaw
to reset
in another season 

are you the one
to love
me?

Poem and images by Laura Denise

Brushes of Soul

what if i’m a drifter
not meant to float alone
but to feel
to the core
every spirit
i choose to know
in brief encounters
but bare
soul to soul
stripped to the glow

fearless
deep
strokes
of wounds
and hopes

what if my home
is collectively
each

what if I crave
the companionship 
of such fleeting
impressions
that layer
like honey –
raw, sweet

sticking
in this amaranthine
slip

what if to be whole
insatiable must be
the need

let’s feed

each other
truths

when it comes 
to how are you

let’s feel

let’s prove
nothing
to this world

let’s love
like we are
eternal

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

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

Parting Kiss

I must part ways with you now,
dear Darkness;
Light is forlorn
without its Laura,

my aura
is dimming
the further I drift
in this alluring
cradling
away from attempts

of putting forth
the efforts
to swim
back up
toward Bliss:

I still hope,
believe (barely),
that it exists.

A parting kiss…

Yes, I know
that means
I will have to let go,
for now,
of that dream,
but I can keep
the parts
that were seeded,
for weeds
they are not;
I feel it,
in that new spot,
how I can nurture
it into something
beautiful
still…

I will.

I return to the isle
from a distance,
leave a trinket,
so it is known
I’ll always
be near,

no need to desert
every future
possibility.

We will all
someday
see.

Dust-Covered Heart

The revelation
did not hit
like a ground-scorching
lightning bolt
disappearing theatrically
in a trail of heaven-retreated
smoke…

I simply looked around
in the settling dust
of the storm
I created,
and there you were,
steadfast despite being
injured,

waiting
for me to again
extend
my hand.
You’ve always been there,
the only one
who’s never
left,

despite the mess
I make
in trying
to emerge
from the grave
of my past,

buried alive,
but each time
my wings
open,
the ghosts reach up,
re-clasp.

You never waver
in your belief in me.
I hope this is the last
tentacle severed
to set us both
free.

Ancient Tongues

I replayed your words, 
a favorite message,
though I’ve memorized 
the way it was delivered.

You did not seed it in me,
but something deep inside,
in a place never reached,
heard it and recognized
the voice, ancient souls
reunited, a stirring, 
an awakening, a rising. 

Something must’ve happened, though,
in the transfer.
You must’ve given too much of yourself
to my ever-after. 

Our once-upon-a-time now birthed,
I give back to you in equal measure.
Restored.
But now we each
have more.

Come, darling, take my hand.
Write with me. Let’s never end

this love story. 
Together. 

Our effervescence
need not be
evanescent. 
We can live
forever

as long as 
we have tongues
to dip and plunge

into the well,
we’ll leave our ink
upon the world. 

And when our bodies
become one
with the earth, 
we’ll find each other
as light
and rebirthe 

again. 
As one. 

Beyond the Tuscan sun. 

Hands in Time

My hand finds yours;
feel my fingers
slide and weave
into place,
your loving anchor
to steady you
when fears cause thoughts
to race.

My hand is in yours;
there is nothing
we cannot endure
and use
to manifest it
into something more,
good and pure,
repurposed anew.

My hand is in yours,
only changing slightly
in physical form
as we age,
but the love transmitted
only strengthens
with each adjoined
passing day.

My hand in yours,
in one of the ways
we become one,
so natural
and effortless
the genuine home
welcome.

One day our love
will transcend this life
and these hands,
but then our light
can fully fuse
as we finally rise together to
begin.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Mythological Growths

Cycloptic serpent
scorched deep
into my being,
color of decay
not even attempting
to camouflage
into my resilient green,
laying eggs,
disease breeding,
growing larger,
but still unable
to see,
for at my core
is also my heart,
and it bleeds
in light.
You try
to grow more eyes,
but this love
inside
will always
render you
blind,
not Karma
but what is right
finally
for I have falsely seen
too clearly
all my life

your lies.

The exorcist has arrived:
self-love.
Parasite,
good final bye.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Aforementioned

There is no greater feeling
(other than love, and perhaps forgiveness)
than the way the heavens
ever so slowly open
in the last of the
fading rumbles,
parting clouds
to reveal nothing more
than the forgotten,
that supreme is
all, above and beyond this,
that we never were alone
through any of it;
it makes me almost wish

for another storm…

I realize that this is
that love and forgiveness
aforementioned
taking form.

This is how inner
peace is born.

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise