viii of cups ~
yes, dear, i feel…
no, rather i sense your blazing
energy stirring, calling.
yes i’m always here listening.
i await your midnight visits ~
when my anguished heart, the tears…
can finally become still (i am ever patient.)
i suppose…
none has a choice now.
& i keep trying to decipher your
mysterious riddles.
the same ones, you relentlessly
haunted my dreams, whispering…
weeks before:
the golden mirror fell from the wall,
and the owl sang…outside my
window in the cold, starless darkness…
(mocking me.)
weeks before callous atropos stole you away.
~ yes, dearest, you’re so very loved and sorely
missed.
think you could perhaps hear our laments, somewhere
in the celestial [?]
~ don’t fret, mama lit a Yahrzeit candle…
we worry you took a part of her with you.
& i walk in silence. too numb,
to make any noise, even speak.
& too fractured inside…
to…
just…
be.
i find…
find… i now drift in,
out of realms…
amongst waning, opal moons…
slowly, shape-shift…
into a wraith.
~//~
©️ 20025








Powerful and personal…great piece.
🙏
your kind words are much appreciated. thank you, for visiting.
~ chantepleure
Powerfully penned, C. Excellent write my friend. Thanks for sharing. Appreciate you.
Damian
my wholehearted thanks for your gracious words.
you and they are much appreciated.
~ chantepleure
The haunting, haunted feel of hope in this is so familiar. Beautiful beyond description
i’m ever so grateful for your generous words.
thank you, for visiting.
~ chantepleure