I, too, sometimes wish you could see the pain amongst my merriment, At least for understanding sometimes, maybe. I’m sort of like this stolen piece of art, I was dragged into this side of my mind with out choice. Only because of certain things in my life that have happened to me. They always said it was good to explore things on your own for once, but not this, this is the side of me that I wish was expendable. This is the side of me I wish I never knew. I have a certain type of pain inside of me that I wish for it to just vanish, but it isn't that easy once it decides to make you it's home. It's hard to cope with these feelings, even if you are happy at the time, because it's always those 3 AM thoughts that ravishes your conscience. The whole “What is wrong with you?" "Are you insane?” "Why do you write of such things?" questions are completely overrated. It flusters me to the max when people ask me why do I look at things so deeply; maybe you would too if you had been through a lot of trauma, if your mind was consumed daily by memories; always feeling so nostalgic, you regret taking all of your happy memories for granted, because though you're making some beautiful ones now, they will never be more beautiful than the ones before, and that I would say, could be apart of the hurt I feel inside. No one should ever take anything for granted, and before you know it, your life has flashed right before your own eyes. It's not just the good memories that pop up either, there are the dark, time consuming thoughts that eat you alive too. Those are the deadly ones, the ones you have to watch out for. The ones that make me hurt. That is the side of me that I hate the most, because no matter how happy I could be, they still find a way to ruin me in a way, but I swear, one day, one day in my life at some point, I will have finally destroyed this side of me. Oh, Is it ever going to be battle; me against my own self, how contradicting does that sound, but there has always been a war inside of me.

There is so much more behind that smile, that smile I give off; sometimes it's real as can be, and other times, it acts like more of a warning sign, but it's the fact that I am good at hiding my emotions, but in the end; I'd rather feel numb, than nothing at all. To feel nothing at all is the worst feeling imaginable, you feel so dead; like you're not even here mentally, just physically trying to make it through each day. I wish to never feel that way again, but then again, sometimes you cannot simply help the way you feel, and that is my weakness; I dive too deep into an ocean that I cannot swim in, that ocean is a thousand thoughts dragging me under, to where I cannot simply breathe straight; these are those 3 AM moments you just wish you could be asleep, so that at least maybe your dreams could take the bad things that pop up in your head, away from drowning you in it's sick, consternated pool. It's hazy down here, where I cannot see so clear, and the only thing left for me to do is keep reaching up above the surface, hoping someone will grab my hands. I do not depend on other people to make me happy, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't mind having someone to help save me from myself.

Did you drop into existence,
light as a feather,
or did you make the world implode
with your erupting presence?
300 million years ago,
animal but human,
human and needy,
riding on backs of giants
to travel to farwaway places,
and then soaring...

Extracting anger and desperation,
tying yourself tight to an image of hope,
to an image of transformation,
so we humans can only desire
to be worthy of your donation...

Nothing flusters you,
and even though your wings
are both blue,
there is nothing sad about you.

You tuck away the empty chasms
of a soul made to feel too old,
made to feel that it should not
aspire to be the sun,
but merely its shadow...
and you paint their
switched off, tired eyes
with ineffable hues of strength.

Dragonfly, you show me
that through your years,
you've cried and you
fought your battles and
some old parts of you died...
and you showed me that
rebirth and imperfection
aren't missing but whole,
that mess isn't haunted
or unwanted but needed
for exploration...

If every particle of ours,  every chemical
that went into a single thought
could be stored away in its designed,
picturesque room,
how could we claim to be mysteries?

Dragonfly, now it's my turn
to give away my pieces of decay,
let them burn.
You are expectedly lingering at my window,
you've always been,
and I'll no longer keep you waiting.

the inherent loneliness creeps back into my body
heart bent around something that doesn't exist for me
although it flusters easily
i use all i have to fill the void
though it does nothing for me
in the desolate hours of the night
when i cannot sleep because i am alone
i dare not open the chest of you
it leaves more tar across my rib cage
sticky and infuriating to remove
burn me once more
there must be something meaningful in this pain

The keys, that
Dribbling waxy fingers
Turn, their gritted smiles splice
As peppered silence
Slices through the hours,
Sinking sunlight strikes
Another ashen pair
Of eyes, closed harder
Than doors on tipsy tongues,
Painted lips
Peeling cracked whispers,
Since open woos,
Seethe rapturously
Throughout the widowed house,
Her violent shudders
Rake my ears
And aching for clenched nails
I turn
The keys, the
Greasy lock
Is deep, yet her eyes are deeper,
Hallowing my gaze
And spitting back swallowed wishes,
Sweetening flusters that tease
Wildly she smiles,
And snatched by the hook
Writhing upwards we arch,
Toes curled and eyes squinting
As the door burst open
And the light fluttered in.

tell me what is more natural
then words pulsating like veins on the paper
then parchment quivering in my very hands
a emotion once breeding in the chest of a human
something moving hungrily under inflicted skin
something making its way like cement from the pit
of a stomach, rushing through blood
a raging emotion fleeting the body
and out into the physical world

tell me what is more natural
then an essence so calm
the only thing more beautiful than love
is the words of love, its description
the endless manuscripts written by
hands and hearts who where at some point in time
experiencing a divine emotion
a description in default of the macabre
and how tears are made and fall from eyes
a horror ringing in the homes of so many books
as to how a human can die mentally
a proof that this is more than real
that a mental rot is existent

tell me what is more natural
than the thunder that protrudes from hearts
galloping like a non tamable beast gathering flesh
racing like light into the universe
words describing the sun
and how she burns
and how she dies

the moon sits in the midnight sky
like a beautiful mistress happy that she is once
again alone and enveloped in the darkness that she
mourns and sings with, when the light has departed

the trees sit like stakes of wisdom
soundlessly crying for the humanity that it witnesses
they see what no one sees, they hear what no one hears

the ocean a translucent mystery, consuming
killing men, and calming men
she too whispers secrets through her energy

and tell me what is more natural than to write of these things
then to make poems and literature of them

and if in essence you cannot find beauty in literature
I encourage it best that you question your faith in humanity
I encourage you to see if your blood mentally runs thick
that your heart speaks and understands its wonders that
flusters and ***** mankind's mind
every woman and man is a poet or painter
every human has it in them to make art that speaks life's real truth
for miles and acres

Whenever I’m left on my own
The silence tells me things
“Think of this! Now think of that
And all the pain it brings!”
It never sets a happy task
It’ll set me one that stings
It’ll set me one that hovers round
And laughs with wretched wings.

The silent moth that flusters by
Just whispers to my brain
“Oh, there is not one single thing,
That in life you will gain.
You are not meant to be happy
That’s why I’m here again.
To turn all of your good feelings
To those of hurt and pain.”

I cannot blot the silence out
It enters and it feeds
And as it stays it starts to nest
And starts to spread its seeds.
The silence grows and needs my love
To help it stretch its weeds.
“You cannot stop the feeling of love”
It says as my heart bleeds.

I do not love the silence, no!
That’s not the love it takes
It takes the love I have for those
Who would put my heart on stakes.
Of those that I’ve had feelings for
And just like giant snakes
Has slivered round and tempted me
To make some big mistakes.

But now it gets more serious
As the seeds now start to grow
The silence is with me always
No matter where I go
And even as I go on out
In sun, rain, wind or snow
The silence comes and plays again
And lets these feelings show

“You cannot run, you cannot hide
For I am part of you
I am not heard by other men,
I do not stay in view.
I linger on your petty heart
Yet linger under too.
And as you try to carry on
I’ll be here, stuck like glue.”

I wondered if it soon would go
If ever I’d be free
But then I thought of how it feeds
And cried so dreadfully
I wished I could just drown it out
But I’d tried that. Can’t you see?
I have these feelings that I can’t shake
And they’ll be the end of me.

it flusters me that
you
pour so much of this affection
and i, so weak and naive
fall each time as though i forget all the other
times you made me feel ill.
all the other times i felt betrayed and
insignificant

not by you, but by my own
shortfall of deep love
for me
for my soul.

you didn't make me feel ill,
that was me.

A great chasm gaping but no words are escaping and it feels like I'm skating on ice.
Nice though it may be each day comes to slay me as the morning breaks open my eyes.
It cuts through my skin as it finds a way in and I want to get out but cannot,that spot in the sky burns me down and I die into daylight once more.
I am trapped on the scrapheap where sleep is the answer and the question unset, is this moment in time where I get the unsettling feeling that my life is just peeling away,
the chasm spreads wide like the tide's going out and I find I can't swim but the day's already in and so it's going to be fine.

Then the wine flows like evening that goes on and on and the bottle once full is now gasping,
almost gone.
The ash of the day flusters slowly and gray and the night grasps me tight to her waist.
This tester,this taster of what will be later is enough for the hour of me,I see  trees bare,unladen with care,I see them full with the blossoms of May and am blinded by beauty,
surely
sore and rocked by these cores which are central,essential and necessary to me where the elements line up and the squadron I see forms the form of all things
and the conclusion I come too is that all things will come true as each day I break out of breaks through into me.

Does me writing now
mean that I've once again gone and
purposely fallen into a new hole?

The feeling returns
in the pit of my everything
that I am suffocating, intentionally,
and frustrated for doing so.

Confusion, flusters, guilt, you.

Tell me,
how do you do it?
How do you let yourself
look someone in the eye,
and know with confidence
that your feelings cannot
bother you any longer?
How do you become
numb as you so often tell me you are?
Do you feed me your sweet words and
false hopes?

Or have you really, in fact, found the key
to immortality?

Mingle, why don’t you
With fingertips of lover’s hands
Hanging on your every thought,
Each touching singing circles

Graced by cauliflower crinkles
Sprinkled amid skull candy
Resonance, eat me alive
Aspire to consume each morsel
Crumbled, scattered along
Crackling rivets submerged  
Sequencing soliloquies into lullabies

Maybe minds are meant for mumbling
Mixing whispers while wind whistles
Wishfully right near nothing

Invision, I am searching souls
Such journeys jangle
Jamming icy stares
Fighting tall standing fixtures
Towering into screams
Deafening anyone brave enough
Lingering foliage flusters us

Come hither, life is togetherness
So kiss my intimacy
Should daring define lifetimes
Forever hues don’t fade
Saturation stings true here

Nouvelles erótica

Usted desea una nouvelle
donde yo tomo el papel
de amante insaciable;
Que rompa sus cables,
Que hable con sus señales,
apagando sus raudales deseos
a base de besos con sabor a cerezo.
Astillar nuestros cuerpos
hasta que encontrar aliento,
mientras se esfuma la bruma
y mis miedos en su boca se
convierten en blanca espuma.

Usted me toma como núbil pupila,
Toma mi cintura como si supiera mi holgura,
Enjambra mi apetito y ultraja mis sentidos.
Me hace sentir mujer,
embriagándome en ese placer
de ser tomada por un hombre
que sabe la morfología de la pasión,
y no pide permisos y ni perdón,
y sin gentileza alguna toma posesión mis temblorosas piernas,
haciendo de ellas lo que usted quiera,
doblegando mi cabeza, la acerca y la aleja como desea, imponiendo su firmeza hasta estallar de conmoción.

Toma mi cuello como si del fuera su dueño,
Su boca insensata alborota mis plazas,
Su lengua canora le canta a mis magnolias,
Por primera vez sutilmente me abriga la aurora,
me abarca el ardor y en usted me acomodo
- como lo hace el sereno en la alborada.
Grito y clamo saber su nombre
mientras los soplos de su respiración
se descargan sobre mi cuerpo,
que busca encontrar alivio en su perdición.

Usted es mi desdoro,
Y no me importa tener honra
si habita su lengua en mi boca
Y me lleve a esos espacios
donde mi cuerpo revive en sus brazos.
********************­***
****************­*******You want a soap opera
where I take the role
of an insatiable lover;
That rips apart your shackles,
that speaks to your gestures,
that dims down your abundant desires
with cherry-flavored filled kisses…  
Splinting our bodies until
you find encouragement,
while the haze disappears and
my fears in your mouth become ivory spume.

You take me as a young novice,
Taking my waist as if I knowing my depth,
Widening my appetite and insulting my senses.
You make me feel like a woman,
Inebriating me in that insoluble pleasure
Of being made love to by a man who
knows the morphology of passion.
Who does not ask for permission
and, or forgiveness,
unkindly taking possession of my trembling legs,
controlling them as you wish,
manipulating my head, pulling closer
and then apart, while imposing
your firmness as you burst with excitement.

You take my neck as if you’re its owner,
your reckless mouth flusters my organism
as your harmonious tongue sings to my magnolias.
I am delicately shielded into the aurora,
Covered in heat and I nestle in your aroma
Wail to know your name
Whilst your breath discharges in my burrows
And I finally find relief in your perdition.

You are my dishonor,
I care not for morality
if your tongue resides within me
- taking me to those places
where my body is revived in your imposing essence.  

©LeydisProse
9/26/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse//

Wild out of the gate, it was a flume ride
dive headlong, as if we had eight days to live.

This early evening across the valley now is calm.
One day's fallen away, since our half-goodbye.

And love has surprised me,
flows for me

without you, and then
there you are -- in messages.

At the park pond a harvest moon,
riding low, smiles at me.

An owl sudden against the dark-shadowed mountain
flusters the sky with her thrush of wings.

Across the dark water a lone duck murmurs,
as he beds down in the reeds.

Where O where have all the tender hearts gone?
My heart floods with the simplest delights.

My love for you arises.

You are nearer to me than the tip of my tongue.
Rose scent of you I taste. Palm open to palm.

O, happy long life! You see?
True and prosperous!

Elsewhere, everywhere in the night brightening sky
we two are up and free.

Listening to your treasured song in hopes of your feelings. I love you it hurts i need you but i wouldn't ask that and i would never ever tell you about my feelings because i don't want you to be weighted down by my secrets. Your blue eyes dazzle me and it flusters me when I realize how much you actually care about me.

You say I’m beautiful, I look away shy,
Like I’m still that girl, when you first caught my eye.
Your words, still electric, they flutter and burn,
And cheeks that should know better still blush in return.

You laugh and you tease, “Still crushing on me?”
I just grin and nod, ‘cause how could I not be?
The butterflies stayed, they never outgrew,
This love that still flutters, still flusters for you.