metal towers, flower petals

a hollow emptiness, so heavy
brick and metal towers
an overflowing happiness, so light
feathers and flower petals

voices around rattle reality
tearing through numb, slow thoughts
heart caught up in another
reality – soundless,
neither light nor heavy;

because you are somewhere else
made of something golden and sweet
which cannot be found here anymore,
you’re simply not here.
… not here, not here anymore.

© Tiny Fawns, 2018

first steps of letting go

emotions can be poured,
but they cannot be lined up and
shared equally among others
at any given time.
it goes against nature.
let what falls, falls.
let what spills, spills,
let what nourishes, nourish.
let what dies, dies.
there’s nothing more painful
than trying to let go of
what’s no longer good for the heart
yet trying to keep it
trapped within your eyesight
to keep from falling apart

backdated post a day poem for December 19th, 2017

vi. fragrance

my grief stays up all night
she desperately wants to sleep
she keeps her eyes closed
trying to remember the fragrance
of roses and other sweet things

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: cherish

*Poem from the poetry mini-series Farewell, Golden One by Tiny Fawns.

v. i need to know

you rise from the soil
in my dreams, the seams
of your sorrows, loosened
letting go, you lean forward
eyes soft, reflecting the sky
i want to ask you why
why you chose to
take your soul
somewhere else, i know
it was written, you penned
your pain and left it behind
but i want to ask you why
now that you are no longer
broken here, if from there
you have gained more clarity
i need to hear or feel
your voice again –
saying something new, not
an echo repeating
in my mind,
i want to ask you
what it’s like outside of our
Time, outside of our World
of Pain, i need to ask if
it rains where you are,
if the winter is just as bitter cold
i need to ask you
have you lost us … and me
or are you somehow
still growing older, over there?
it will take me a while, i hope
before we eventually meet again
i need to know when that day comes
if it is empty or one with you again

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: torn

*Poem from the poetry mini-series Farewell, Golden One by Tiny Fawns.

dial tones

no one wants to
call the number of
a dead person – but
scrolling past it
every time leaves
my fingertips and mind
numb, hoping to
remember the
sound of their voice
when all that is
left of their number
is an empty dial tone

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: calling