Shadow Poetry

no vacancy

i didn’t run dry

you bled me out

like a carcass


left me propped up

no toe tag to speak of

lights on

‘open for business’ sign lit up

and lying


it’s empty

bound and covered

scrawled with lovely

bold lettering

embossed even

pages numbered

it’s empty


Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

Lamp Light

when we take to the streets

no one will know our names

but they will chant our cause

and the lights will never go out


the lamps are burning

off our dead weight

the oil long gone

siphoned by the empty promises

doomed to be repeated

when all the lights go out


is it naive to believe

in happily ever after?

everyone believes

in the end


is it naive to believe

we are here for a purpose?

leaving dead skin cells

as my trail

so you can find me

when i’m lost

when i’m stuck

or is it all just void?

no point at all

i think not


when i wake

in the dead of night

searching for the reasons

i cannot find

remind me


hold me

until the gaping abyss

can no longer see me


take the truth

massage it into my skin

so i can remember

what we are fighting for


By Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

depression is

depression is a liar

and a truth teller

buries heads in the sand

illuminates all the wrong


playing the villain

monsters slithering

in the shadows

making home in the hollows

paying rent in love letters


we want someone to know

but we don’t

can never tell

because


playing the hero

winning over the dragons

stepping into the flame

drinking it dry

sparing the hostages

the licking and the char


because we know what it means

to suffer inside a plastic box

nothing to soothe the ill

because we hurt

beneath bricks and mortar

dust and broken bones

we exist within

suffocation

and oxygen masks


writing these silly plot twists

with knives in our spines

emails to our graves

everyone else is a star

brilliant in crimsion hues

our screens are ebony

the colors all filtered out

we can see you

but we can’t feel your warmth


because we hurt enough

we don’t open mouths

because to add more

is to help the vile

add to the mass graves

of tears and open sutures

because we can’t hand you

this filth

your hands are so pretty

and we’re already so dirty


by Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry

moving forward

moving forward is the only good option

but

the drop down menu is stuck

and the library burned down

the next bus only goes back


the memory is clogged in my throat

someone stole all the maps

they left a post-it note behind

keep going

it says


did they know i’d be here?

why didn’t they wait?


i left my feet at home

i didn’t know i’d need them


i have the feeling

i was supposed to meet someone here

am i late?

did i miss them?

or did they get here before me,

read the note

keep going

it says


what if they thought it was from me?


i could leave some breadcrumbs.

Shadow Poetry

price to pay

i felt you coming

fingers sliding up my spine

miles away

 

i was told to fear you

taught hatred

revulsion

 

for sharp intentions

and sturdy makings

how they’d be so disappointed

 

in me now

i’ve gone the way

they look away from

 

hushed skeletons

dancing in the wardrobe

of their fancy guilt

 

i stole away in broad daylight

laughing into the on pour

sloughing off all my silver

 

dainty little shoes in the gutter

they shied away from the truth

but i knew

 

i knew you

inky fingers laced crimson

choked down their words

 

their own making

as they curtsied in public

buried their bodies in silence

 

i had none

waiting in the sunlight

watching in the darkness

 

one and the same

it wasn’t a race

not the war they made it

 

and freedom wasn’t very expensive

after all

all i had to do was

 

drop my mask

peel off my bullet proof vest

step into the unknown

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Shadow Poetry

Love

Eyes that shine blood red

In the dark

Watching

Waiting

For the underbelly to be exposed

Fangs to know

Claws to reason

 

Run, they said

But the creatures

Lurking in the hollows of our nightmares

They are so very hard to break

And my hands are already so dirty

Necromance me

 

Shadow Poetry

memories

out of the darkness, they came

like lightning bolts of flame

 

we ran and ran, but lost our grip

beware, beware, that gradual slip

 

take one wrong turn, my dear

that’s all it takes, out there, in here

 

its not a choice, not conscious, at least

choose today, to ruin or feast

 

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Shadow Poetry

behind the door

where there’s a little magic

there’s a little more

 

and if you can find a single reason

you can find it behind a door

 

like a butterfly’s wing –

you can’t touch it

 

but if you keep looking

you’ll find a key to fit

 

it isn’t made of gold or glowing

but if you listen ever so closely

 

it will speak into your fear

in wails and whispers, mostly

 

but beware, listen carefully

and start at step one

 

or one day you’ll wake up

questioning what you’ve done

 

in a place you don’t know

with more questions than one

 

like, where is all your skin

and why are you holding a gun?

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