Shadow Poetry

a terrible wanting

rose petals keep bubbling up in my throat
making it hard to continue
consuming the sounds in my pillow,
every time i flow over

the hollow in me doesn’t understand
why it exists

this ache, this terrible wanting
hands tied behind my back
as i stroll through the pews,
the time cards, the aisles

clock in, clock out
footsteps, late nights, seating for one
and this madness,
this fire, with nowhere to burn,
flames licking at the witching hour
hush, before the night hears

breathe in, breathe out
lace for fingertips haunting my dreams
slipping through the cracks,
walls built long ago beneath sturdy hands,
rough with love letters and salt

molten center, quivering with its
unspoiled, unconsumed, untouched
and i’m screaming honey demands
to what feels like closed heavens

i am feathers, choking thorns to ash
i can, i want, i crave
open

by Daphne Shadows

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