The Everest

Everest-575683

After days of climbing, with the sharp breeze caressing my face like the hands of a dying lover, I reach the top. At the highest point of humanity, I’ve never felt so low, insignificant. Here a top of this ice sculpture I realise that if I froze right now I would be nothing but another rock, adding one more layer to something bigger.

Image: GOOGLE
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Soon Enough

Soon enough

the thick brown branches

will be hidden by flowers

and everyone will exclaim how beautiful they are.

 

Soon enough

the few dry patches of grass

will become greener

and everyone will want to crush the shards.

 

Soon enough

these surroundings will produce their music

a soundtrack of laughter

and only now it will be an object of desire.

 

But a few months ago

when the only music was one of death and silence

and the days were grey and short

this place laid abandoned.

 

And no one noticed how beautiful it was.

Chess

Check.

You’ve planned everything.

Check.

Moving through the checkered bits

you took away everything I once was.

Check.

You’ve dismantled my walls,

Check.

blew out my defenses.

Check.

You were the Knight leaping through my broken pieces

landing on top of my very own essence

in a board-shattering

Checkmate.

©Maria Omena

Progression

Her eyes were wide open
searching for that spark
she named love at first sight;

Promoted by hormonal variation,
mood and attraction.
Actually, it was but an inbred reaction
that shook her
core,
bones,
navel.

and made her
sigh deeply,
relax notoriously,
f
a
l
l
astronomically

Though like in a ripped rope
the connection was cut.
She realised that right from the start
her eyes were in fact tightly shut.

Masterpiece

I was floating in the middle of a green field

when I felt cold hands grabbing my waist.

A pocket square covered my mouth –

chloroform had never smelled so bittersweet.

 

I remember when I told you I liked red,

you said I looked exquisite in it.

Is that why you made me bleed?

So you could paint my body with your fingers,

touching,

ripping,

shredding.

Crafting and carving on my skin.

 

I recall when I told you I liked purple,

until I became it.

Your face branded on my eyelids every time I moved,

with your twisted fingers you tattooed me.

The arms around me resembled a cage –

I should have run when I had the chance.

 

I remember when you said my grey eyes were beautiful.

maybe you liked them so much that you wanted them still.

The gris turned to ice, losing its sparkle.

Orbs always open and never blinking

you would be the last thing I see.

 

I recall every time you said

you would help me become what I found most beautiful.

I was the only canvas you needed to express your artistry.

you loved me and would transform me into your masterpiece.

I wonder, if I had said I was colour blind, would you have let me be?