anchored high

all of the dark that is low and
buried beneath the ground,
gravity hugs it in close,
only caves seem to keep it around

but as we grow up, we draw
closer so we can hear the sound
of the night growing dark
within our hearts,

the call draws us home,
going lower to be brought
higher, we grow wings
when we are released of our bones

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: ascend

her pockets – our resting places;

solitude doesn’t wear masks
she likes to ask a lot of questions
leaving your heart scratching
at your eyes in a restless sleep
yet sometimes she likes to keep
keys in her pockets, she’ll
carefully take them out when
we’re locked out of our
hearts – she’s always the ending
place we retreat to, our resting place
when we should always think of her
from the start

backdated post a day poem for October 3rd, 2017

f— frivolity,

some people wait for years
outside of the gate
waiting for a glimpse of light
to cast its body into the shadows
of my mind, but sometimes
wine will open the door
and quicker than ever before
someone can walk on in and
explore all those places i
always feel unsure of speaking
about, go ahead – shout
at the top of your lungs,
i’m too drunk to even count
the rungs – is there even a ladder
i’m pretty much hung over
waiting for the sun so that i can
dry on out, maybe by then
you’ll realize what i’m all about
i’m not much different than you
i just prefer to be out by myself
than in, surrounded by loads
of people – so much skin, words
and things to absorb, and frankly
i don’t give a shit about a lot
of things that swim in the air
during frivolous conversations
i’d rather be lost in my mind
than lost in your happiness
feeling completely bored

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: gate