life

Withdrawal

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Somewhere in the transition
of my love for you and being
allowed to love you once more,
I lost my voice – gone were the
words that flew so easily from
my pen,  left instead to the blue
inked stains smeared across the
pages, crossed out and repeated
twice more until love itself had
become this illusion and I could
no longer convey my affection
without the promise of bleeding
my heart on the page, and in my destruction, my voice withdrew;
leaving behind thoughts I could
not put into words, strangled by
time and longing, as though upon
its death, the truth could be free.

Escape

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I’ve traveled to the edge,
where I could sit upon my
own dreams, counting the
stars as they fell in delicate
repetition of the beats of my
heart, soothing the fall with
the faintest whisper of blues;
my thoughts left to scour the
sky as I paint the horizon in
colors I’ve never before used,
watching and waiting for night
to fall, searching my mind for a
chance at escape, set against
a sight of lasting midnight hues.

Song of Summer

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Below the fading clouds,
the ripples from the tides
are caught in serenades of
the summer, with laughter
from the docks and sand
between our toes, with us
left wandering around the
lake, caught in that lasting
hour between stars and sun,
counting the fading shades
of the sky, whispering until
tomorrow to our sun-kissed
loving haze – we know how
to serenade our days, start
with a song of the lake and
hope summer never fades.

Verses in June

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I crave delicate droplets
of poetry falling in rhythm
to the whispers of the wind,
where the simplest patterns
of emotion and honesty are
left to haphazard conditions
caused by the writer’s pen –
where storms can break out
in agony, tearing readers at
the core, or washes away all
sadness, starting over once
again,  where the delicacy of
words fall like droplets in the
wind, carrying my feelings
with me,  until the very end.

Fifty-Four

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We were only as good
as the lies on which we
would break,  subtle yet
piercing as truth would
surround itself in cloaks
and daggers, shielding
away the innocence and
hiding from the strands
of pain and discomfort
that break with the day;
we were only as good
as we could pretend to
be, losing ourselves in
the reality that our lies
had become the truths
that we would never see.

Wanderers

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We were left to wander
the streets with the signs
of dusk looming,  set in
motion beneath a subtle
hue of jazz found in the
stars, with you and I as
the trumpet and the sax,
trailing songs with our
footsteps, singing along;
we were born wanderers,
left to the rhythms set by
the land,  following along
with the moon and stars
guiding us hand in hand
to the places only seen by
the inside of our dreams.

Verses in May

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I crave the pain that seeps
from my blood into poetic
trails of blue ink found on
the page, where light and
verse are clouded behind
lines of memories and the
subtle hues of white space
are begging to be branded
with the leftover outcries of
my mind and heart; I crave
the light of pain, when I can
shred through the darkness
in poetic upheaval, emerging
victorious, with pen in hand.

Hidden Truths

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Truth was shredding
through the darkness
like the sun kisses the
stars awake, blending
shades of words into
wisdom and feelings,
cutting through edges
of blackened dust by
the fiercest of kisses;
truth lies in the dark
shadows, softened by
a denial of the unseen,
where words can hide
emotions and actions,
destroying any hope
of a peaceful recovery.

Distress

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I thought I had your heart,
all this time I was calling it
mine, still believing that our
memories had been painted
on the walls of your heart in
crimson shades of the golden
days when a whisper was all
that it took, more than just a
look and I was yours and you
were all mine – but with days
fading, and the paint chipping
away, I ask myself how long
I shall be allowed to stay…

Come Fall

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Bury me in the autumn,
propped against the dying
willows, so I can whisper
alongside them until the
mornings end – carry me
past the river, where the
roots are growing plenty,
caught inside the daze of
my lengthened goodbyes.
Remember me in autumn,
when the trees have faded
into whispers beyond the
river, where the age of my
innocence and youth still
linger in the roots; and if
the winds shall no longer
reach the willows, miss
me, in my final goodbye.