Bliss in forgetfulness
In my wake, my soul flees, eager to lie dormant - out of reach, away from my fair body.
And then she beckons, spreading her arms wide in embrace, always welcoming then I feel seen.
She takes less than she gives, she gives more than she takes, she lures me slowly to bliss, forgetful of the big world around ...in her arms I am free to roam, out of my body, and out of the earth. But she keeps me safe in time, and when I return I'm glad I have her.
My saneness is met, when my senses are out. She keeps me intact, through space and through time.
She's my wrongful addiction, but unlike the rest, she's good...taking and giving, and pulling me through.
I long for her touch, and she's always in view...granting me safety even when I fall through.
Testing new waters 😂
Someone please tell me how many rules I broke in poetry.
Photo credits: Pixabay(free images)
Lol. This is awesome. If this was the nineteenth century you would have broken as many rules possible, but in this century poetic autonomy rules, i.e there's no rules--just write from the heart, which you clearly did. Brilliant poem, Debby!
Lol, thanks, you're too nice.
Last night was the first time in a long while I slept for longer than four hours, so I woke up feeling quite giddy.
Poetry was the closest I could compare whatever that was, to.
Lol. It sure is.