Shadow Poetry

Deja Vu

I got in a fight

And broke my own nose

Could be nicer, I suppose


The mirror shattered

I woke up on the other side

Left my bloodied wings behind


Because I know

There’s mold behind the dry wall

Never capitulate when I fall


The decay keeps hiding

But I can smell it out

I don’t know what this is about


Pieces of glass in my way

I think I found your secret

Don’t know if I can keep it


You’re not who I thought

This reflection’s getting murky

I keep forgetting it’s me


I got in a fight

And broke my own hold

The duality never gets old


by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

here there be dragons

your breath keeps fogging up my heart. fingertips charred, frostbitten heart, you need this. hope hurts but it’s the only game in town. and if my lungs can pretend I’m alive, we can make it on this tightrope. too far from the ground to know what’s up or down, bleed into it. dig in. electricity swimming through my nerve endings, a heady breeze stolen from the safety just out of reach.

I had my eyes closed when I tripped over your wings, blinked and you were gone. I’m dropping baggage and balancing on broken feet. try me. they already did, with gasoline in their veins and thorns in their embrace, but they fell to their own poison.

a kiss can never lie but death sure tries. and just before I flatlined, I felt it wake in me. a sleeping creature that met me as I fell, live flames in my mouth, jumper cables to my heart.

breathing fire isn’t so hard, after all.


by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

The Weight of Every Feather

I feel. And you punish me.
I try to heal. And you break me.
Little glimpses, little offenses. I live inside your kaleidoscope, swirling in hues of agony.
So brave. So brave to peel your skin off for everyone. Wrong one. Wrong skin. Wrong soul.
Stuck in a web of lies. Razor blades in my spine. I take them out. You put them back.
Silly little child. It’s no big deal.
Never is.
There is a disease in my blood. You pour these bullets into my hand. Pull the trigger so I cant burn down this cage.
Pump my stomach for the key but you’ve drowned me in these useless tears.
The sky is falling from my lips and ive lost myself to you.
I hate you.
Silly little child. Its no big deal.
Never is.
Silly little feather. Silly heart. Thinking you can breathe. You are shards of ice or hot enough to burn and nothing else.
I try to temper you. You shatter me against the darkness, burry me in the hope until I’ve done it again.
I’ve forgotten. Again. I feel. And you punish me.

by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

alchemy of the soul

mmmmmmm… that breath, right there.

i can pinpoint it in a pinwheel of daggers. all lashing into the downy feathers of tomorrow, sending hiccups of blood into yesterday. i can play with the leaves until morning hits, sweeping the sky with the last of my patience, brushing my hair off my lips.

you didn’t remember the sunspots on the forest floor. but i did. i painted them rouge with every last little dovetail of spilt time. there were eyes on us then, strangling the ocean tide through needle point.

i miss you.

by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

dear, madness

sometimes I try to force the pieces to fit

but all I do is shift the tide

and the moon weeps

at my feet


it isn’t over

if your heart is still in it


I need a new heart

one that sees me

beats for me

maybe you too


but that depends

can you see in the dark?


I am flames burning the forest

I am the forest, too

breathing with charred skin

and begging people to stop cutting me down


I’ll hurt you

(I hurt me too)

and soothe us with rose petals

and the moonlight

that drips from my lips


creation and destruction

the game we all play

I am not playing

I am the one moving mountains

ending sunsets

setting alight the ills

I am the one

tripping over grains of sand

and choking on broken glass

dripping from my eyes


I am lost

even though I know

who I truly am

where I belong

who’s name is on my heart


I am lost

in a pool of ink

drowning on your absence

and the demons

kneeling at my door

they’re singing

to the darkness in me


I need a love affair

with my own soul

but there’s more

more that I need


sometimes I try to force the pieces to fit

but all I do is shift the tide

and the moon weeps

at my feet


by Daphne Shadows

Stream of Consciousness

Emotions Suck

sometimes

when you don’t know things you NEED to know

or you feel things you DON’T want to feel (or at least, you probably shouldn’t feel them maybe possibly i don’t know)


(i mean, emotions are also awesome, but ugh.)

Stream of Consciousness

There’s Something Strange about being Weird

What is something about YOU that’s weird?

Do you like it about yourself?


We’ve kinda demonized the term, ‘weird’.

Of course, there’s a big difference between quirky weird and creepy weird, the latter being none too healthy nor pleasing (or helpful).


But being weird, isn’t automatically a bad thing.

Typically, it simply means you stand out from the crowd. You divert from social or cultural behavior of the majority surrounding you.

That doesn’t mean evil, bad, wrong, or stupid.

Yet, that’s often how we take it.


Are you a goth in a school that idolizes jocks?

One of those special human beings who walks about in the world with no socks on (how do you NOT have blisters?!)?

Do you have a speech impediment?

I bet you’re considered weird. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Or you.

Being goth is perfectly fine. Also, your makeup is amazing. If you’re someone who doesn’t wear socks, I don’t know how you survive, but there’s nothing wrong with you. And a speech impediment didn’t stop Winston Churchill.


I guess what I’m trying to say is, stop bloody worrying if people call you weird.

What’s weird in Japan might be normal in America and vice versa. It doesn’t mean anything is inherently wrong. Wrong, is when you cause harm. And that’s got it’s own term…. wrong.


Being weird isn’t bad. In fact, any time the subject comes up, I always think of this poem. I’ll leave you with it. So first, just know that your oddities make you, YOU. And you are a beautiful human being. Don’t hide. (Unless you’re in a situation where taking my advice would put you in danger. 😉)


“She had blue skin,

And so did he.

He kept it hid,

And so did she.

They searched for blue

Their whole life through,

Then passed right by —

And never knew.”

Shel Silverstein