You step out of the darkness
into the light,
then into the darkness again
carrying sapphire light within you-
your inner compass, your greatest strength
Carefree, out of the corner of your eye
you see shadows shy away from your
disarming nature;
you are an unlikely saviour
awakened in serendipity-
you give them freedom to either
spend their existence haunting
or let your light guide them and peel
the darkness without pain
Unencumbered by shadows,
you embrace them whilst
your mind renews itself,
white magic, healing witch, infinite soul
You walk towards locked doors
and pass through them effortlessly
the key is your charming,
revitalisating smirk,
wayward girl,
your obstinate nature makes sure
your dreams live on
and turn into phantoms haunting
new, greater dreams.
poetry
A poem: The Rite
Her face aglow,
she performs her rite
gracefully, like the snow
in the silver lunar light;
deathly hair, startling eyes,
soul-enhancing
white night purity, necromancing-
nude porcelain skin,
beauty within
whispers of sin;
knowledge sought after
flirting with disaster
secrets held in astral shells
uttered in diffuse spells
the occult- her only master.
A poem: Face to face
Face to face:
eyes locked,
staring into each other;
seeing your reflection
in the dark lake of her iris.
Hand on hand,
praying together-
not like those bible verses preach-
no, praying to the abyss,
hoping it won’t swallow you whole;
understanding at first the irony
and then the futility
of your act.
The abyss has wet black lips,
kissing you to compensate
for chewing pieces of your soul
and spitting them out
because they were bittersweet.
Now they are soaked, slippery,
no longer sticking either in or to the puzzle,
which is why you don’t make sense
except in the silver,
face to face,
where your soul is pure, whole,
and wholly unleashed.
A poem: Unfiltered
Clinical,
surreal emptiness.
Chocolate-scented wood.
Smell of new and
non-alcoholic intoxication.
Life as art for art’s sake.
Neon light flickers as you blink
infected by dizziness.
No longer tone-deaf to the harmonies
of your own soul,
you don’t shrink for someone else to grow.
An invisible corpse in the plastic bag
winks at you from the corner-
madness, it grows
in sanity.
Lifeless but intense:
you don’t pray for another,
you prey for yourself.
A Poem: Bloody act
Two bodies wrapped in an embrace
in a tomb of glitter and frost-
the blood lingers while they kiss,
then it pours gently down the legs
of the cradle surrounded by mist.
The lake of tears reflects the moon of sorrow-
trembling, fluid, unpredictable;
their red eyes locked, unblinking,
while eternity replaces the morrow.
A poem: Echoes
A silhouette merging with the unknown-
all that is left is your breath in the cold air
as you exhale in slow motion.
I speak in shadows,
you respond with specters of light,
haunting every word-
making sense of it all;
I choose to live in the now,
but if you whisper in my ear
I will take decades to figure out
why you chose to disappear
that day
when I ran down the hallway-
gargoyles staring from above-
for a second I thought I could hear
another set of footsteps
under a different weight
even after I accepted your longing
for the netherworld.
The statues were grotesque,
threatening, demon-like in thunder and lightning,
and still, I hoped that hallway would never end
just so I could hear the sounds again and again
and convince myself they weren’t merely
echoes of my footsteps into the unknown.
A poem: Afterlife
I taste the blood of dehydrated lips,
admire the inadequately plucked eyebrows
above vapid black circles surrounded by
red on translucent white.
Dark hair, itchy like rope
against my neck,
frozen hands trembling,
features particularly thin:
I forgot how to live,
yet I laugh at my own sin.
Poems from years ago
the fragile
body and soul now shine
with a different light
and cast a different shadow:
the light of god,
the shadow of Lucifer.
–
Distracted by my flame,
I spilled some water in
that little cavity
between you and me.
Your presence turned it into ice,
I stepped towards you
and broke my knee.
–
The clouds have invaded you
and you can’t let them go
your heart needs to be covered
She’s too fragile on her own
are alter egos your cup of tea
or hers?
you drink them fast,
she kills them slowly,
one by one,
until your heart is left unclouded
and that’s when it gets darker
and darker
until you start breathing in the ashes of carbonised hope
and let them infect the only thing that was ever clean
in your mind and in your hands: Innocence.
–
I miss the scent
of your whispering skin
at night
when you tell me
you love
how I can be both
you and
myself
in my head.
Shiver
That tender memory
of snowdrops,
dreamy air,
and spring dew
made my world shiver this morning
once again.
A poem: November
The vanishing words,
the vanishing images,
the shedding
of selves like autumn leaves;
of withered lives on wrinkled paper,
dust off the treasure chest
in the desert, next to a snake
regenerating its skin
polished,
your porcelain appearance melting into
the undefined-
does the new verse annihilate
or build you?
perhaps it is the fading portrait
either that, or the smile in between
either that, or the infinite encounters
with the ineffable
You write, you cross out
another identity and over to
another vision.
DIANA MARIN 