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A sorry caution "Sorry" can be overused, lose its meaning. Be abused. Not said with real and true intention. As if just mumbled in passing mention. Not honestly felt and with heart. When excuse-invention, is the art. Yet a sorrow show of regret and meaningful apology, can also sound and receive like marvellous melody. Ease the pain and not in vain. Make close again friends, and make amends. It is in that sense like a flame or flare, caution, please: handle with care. Updated, Edited and written by Piezometric Poetry on 09-06-2023 Poem artwork

Like a flower The petals close shut Words get lost in mud Wonder can be found in stars With eyes closed, open heart Flower bud Fallen to the ground with a thud Frozen in time Where is your mind? The mundane in the divine? With a little chamomile and thyme I'll join your limbs with mine You cannot rewind time But maybe that's just fine The wound abides, heart resides Your worry is mine, glistening sentient Your colours I will complement What is it like to sleep awake for a hundred years? Body clothed in tissue of tears Head full of thousands of fears You must feel like a butterfly touched by human hands. Mouth tastes death, Soul filled with wrath There's always another path Behind thousands of fears Behind a tissue of tears Upon a blushed dawn Scars are broken open The wound is bleeding oceans Weak body, eyes slowly open A sun, a flower opening up I think I can imagine trust. I'm willing to pay what it costs. Like a flower with its petals torn off I'll grow through tar and

I'm no one now. I found myself after being awful enough, after leaving enough messages to beg, after making sure they had found my body - I'm no one now. I found myself after being burned and set alight, after not eating enough, after being hit by a truck. I found myself, stepping out and facing a world I never wanted to see. with some comfort in my heart they asked me what I wanted to do, and I said I want to feel in a world I was never meant for. I want to be the one to put myself in their shoes, to look through their eyes - the cold that this life leaves us is an empty bookshelf I never wanted to see. having been broken, after not looking at the shape of the hole in me, I found myself - spinning in my own blood, feeling alone on a street. the music finally left as I tried to make sense of what was happening, and I found myself in a room full of ashes, being put back together without them, and recognizing that I was never alone when I should have

i. we dance on the corpses of yesterday like scavenger birds, picking the bloodied morsels and tearing the pain of the past out of them. ii. you told me. that. my darkness is beautiful my scattered moods, my black soul and my starless heart I wanted to hungrily drink the words from your lips like I drink liquid spine of my witchborn gods. iii. cloudy shade above us sparkly night in our veins like made of black diamonds and dripping briars. iv. how often i climb on this mountain to see my sins under its feet and you, ignoring them, seeing only the glossy peak. v. I called for spring; lush and dangerous with storms washing my spirit with healing waves it really came, like pleasure from millions strokes applied where I feel most.

No, I’ll never go back. All I had and was is gone. I’m left with what I lack. When I stare up into the sky, the stars, they all look worthless and the moon reminds me of the times… So similar to how it used to look when I was whole. A world away, when I still had some semblance of control.

I let go of you today our memories in the form of seeds I gave them to the birds at the lake to nourish them like they once nourished me. I tossed handfuls to the magpies who perched in the trees waiting for me to walk away - and I did. I gave some to the swan like the one that we fed back in Iceland. The gulls came and called for the others. Ducks swam over and quacked happily. A hooded crow joined and stared at me. I had no more food left to give, but he found some I had tossed on the ground. They´re still eating, those birds. Picking up the remnants of what I held onto. They will carry our memories far away from here, and I will sit near the still water.

I was born with a silver tongue, Copper eyes and a gold heart. A grain of salt in my head and skin of obsidian. The silver has tarnished, But it stays slick with lies told , And untold. And retold. My lips seem bruised and discolored, poisoned by the silver within. The copper has oxidized, Turning blues and greens under the force of the salt water of my tears. And all the strife they have seen. The golden heart starts soft and pure Shining in the sunlight. But it is soft. Malleable All too soon it is dented. And pieces taken. It is better known as Fool's Gold, When it glints in the light to attract another. The grain of salt becomes a pearl that is my brain. Over time it shall mold Rolled within my cavity, an irritant until it is beholden as some fantastic beauty of nature. My skin is obsidian. Beautiful and Smooth Shattering off with any amount of force, Sharply cutting to those that try to touch me wrong. I am a treasure trove, Of precious metals and beautiful things. I may

I loved your story which helped me when life got rough— thanks for writing it

When my soul shall fade in the dark, I wish for you not to grieve but to remember, of the memories we share, of the moments we smiled and when we laughed. Hold my hand and let your tears flow, not because it is over but because it happened. Aim higher than we aimed for the dreams we shared, stand stronger than we stood when we protected each other. This is not the end of your journey, this is just my destiny. You are destined to aim for the stars and beyond, so please, darling, remember me for eternity. This is my manifesto, my final wish, my good goodbye.

"I don't want to be alone." Would it have changed anything if I actually said it out loud? You knew how loud my thoughts were. You knew how heavy it all was to me. You knew it was hard for me to be...myself. You knew why and how... You knew I never said these things out loud. Why didn't you read? You didn't read and I never said these things to you. Out of fear? No. Out of knowledge that you, too, are temporary. And you proved it just the right way. I needed you to hear my soul the way I heard yours. I needed you to read my thoughts the way I read yours. But I knew you wouldn't be able to because you aren't me and you never will be. You're not even yourself anymore. You're a stranger. How could you ever read me after all? I.L. @Iviwrites on DA @ivisthoughts on Instagram

I lost you somewhere, or perhaps a part of you, in the act of incorporating, different threads into, the tapestry we have, worked to form, from this part of life. I don't always know what to do, with this new, soft, sectional portion of me; the fear that simmers, beneath the otherwise, calm veneer feels, so wide and uninhibited. There's nothing bad about it, it's different, and I struggle with change. It's easy for it, to overtake your silent, solid, immovability; your monolithic partition, the veil of mountains that shrouds, the romantic inside us, that just wants to love. But I need your careful, self-conscientious spirit, to find balance between, a blind vault straight into the Heavens, and an anchorless plunge, straight into the Abyss. I will find you again, when I sit down today and, let the worlds that slip, from my fingers into ink, and onto paper. I will find you again, in the solitude of the breath, between my heartbeats. I will find you again, in me.