Warped

Dreams and aspirations lie astray,

As I was taught restraint and obedience,

As I was directed to modesty and diffidence,

As I learnt to be demure and sympathetic.

.

Wrapped as a daughter, a wife and a mother.

A philosopher. A cheerleader. A dictator.

A cook. A lover. A tutor.

Warped in multiple identities but The One,

Several faces at the loss of The One.

The price I paid.

Of simply being a woman.

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I am under veils of mystery,

Independence boxed by sentinels of society,

With their double standards and patriarchal mindsets.

The waters churn a storm beneath the calm,

The rocks brew lava within the silence.

A dam waiting to burst. A volcano itching to erupt.

Waiting for the dominoes to fall.

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Often called by the name of the rose.

Soft as petals. Rich in fragrance.

Unforgiving as thorns.

Simply a woman.



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Don’t you take a leaf from your memory

And hoard it away in the safe.

Your mind sifts through the times past

Filing the precious moments to be saved for eternity.

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Then you lock the safe and throw the key away,

Because you have the strength to move forward.

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But then the temptation rears its ugly head,

Mocking with the tantalizing flashes of simpler times.

When all is left is to smash it open

And scatter the vestiges of the souvenirs into the wind.

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You are empty-handed, without the safe or those recollections,

Left with exhaustion, incapable of creating more impressions. 


Written for Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday – save/safe.

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Strings of Love

Perhaps it is simply an illusion

A myth taken from the pages of time

To make us covet, to make us feel

Instill a sense of direction.

.

When we are all just puppets,

Held by its strings on destiny

A nameless formless intoxication of the mind

Led by the skips and tugs of the heart.

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Yet when two destinies collide

Tales are written and celebrated

Inked by the pull and push of the forces

Whimsical and barely out of reach

.

Connects us to people and memories

Unties the knots of emotions

Releases the pulse of your inertia

Rushes the blood to the core of your soul

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A kinetic energy that sparks between them

Beyond science and engineering

Lighted by the divine interstellar explosion

Otherwise simply referred to as love.



Simply love.

Wisp

A wisp of thought it remains,

Walking in unannounced,

A distant echo of the whispers exchanged

Of the breaths shared.

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A wisp of a memory it remains,

Floating without connections,

An unconscious gaze into the dreams wished

Of the promises unmade. 

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A wisp of a love it remains,

Formless of definitions,

A play of lingering touches of destiny  

Of the strands of losing hope.



From the vaults of unrequited love. Written for Sue’s photo prompt.