ESCALADE

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

This furrowed mountain I climb
My reflection has been lost
Hollowness I harbor
No wandering fugitive
But a carbon copy
Of my melancholy mindset
Willing to dance among
Soft twilight rays
Like a barefooted gypsy
Flower child of the night
Gesticulating to a fading azure
Sturdy in my stance
Divinity will soon come
But for now
These exquisite daisies interlaced
Among midnight tresses
Will befittingly suffice

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

SLOWLY DYING

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Pain of a mimicked heart
Agonizing whirlwind
Jesters know the lyrics
Mimed tune for a mocking raven
Dismembered and torn
Exhausted from dangling
Repeatedly to puppeteers delight
Seized and dominated
In arduous angst
Strings perforated within
New rhythm being born
Of faint palpitations
Decaying remains surround
Ravaged carcass existent
laying motionless on the ground
Irregular beats obvious transgressor
Leaves room to ponder
Myriad of thoughts brew
In a subliminal mind
Does fate even compensate
Will a rain shower suffice
Exact amount that awakens
Wilted wildflowers dazed
From scorched brazen sunlight
Scrutiny feels like
Final nail on the coffin
Paling heartbeats
Infrequent and throbbing
A mere mortal’s prelude of
Walking an unending tightrope

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

TWO STEPS BACK

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

The locket broke today...
Abrupt fall caused its untimely demise.
The timing is uncanny,
For you have now left my life,
A bond sworn never to be broken.
Standing along this pathway of cobblestone,
I see a resemblance to my heart.
It just has to be the same,
Crushed and uneven inside of me.
The flowers are all wilted,
I shun from the evening sunsets.
Shudder to think at times,
What these feelings can spiral into.
If this is forever and day,
Like your previous solemn vow,
Then I am forever trapped in a Pandora's box.
Screaming at the top of my voice,
Which is to no avail.
What corner of this earth am I to turn to?
Wished that locket did not break today,
Firm in my belief it was the one keepsake,
That harboured wondrous moments.
The one keepsake...
That brought genuine solace,
In its bittersweet mystique,
The time swiftly rolled on by,
I was one hour closer,
To being reborn...

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.