Welcome to Song in the Silence

This blog was started as a single place to put all of my poetry, and even prose, that I have written. From my very first poem when I was 13 years old to the slower paced, and more rare, poems written in my mid-30s.

Constructive criticism is always welcome. You can find a mirror of this blog on http://song-in-the-silence.tumblr.com/.

Thank you for the visit and hope you enjoy.

Icon: Books by sunlitsundays (livejournal)

Header image: Ghost Mountain by Caffeine_Romance (Deviantart)

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919 [09 September 2017]

His voice whispers to me
of the things he wants
and my body rises to meet his demand.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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917 Secret [06 September 2017]

Late nights and interesting conversations
are what you bring to me.
Quiet, in my heart,
does the secret hide
hoping to not be found out.
That it has already considered
that home might be sought
in you.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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916 [06 September 2017]

What is love?
A fallow, fleeting thing
that never settles in the heart of those
who might wish for it most.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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915 Not as Described [06 September 2017]

Love was not what it was once promised.
When I came of age,
love was the end all, be all,
the goal, the dream, the wish.
When I matured,
it was a benefit or even a side effect
triggered by the chemicals driving
the physical manifestation we are given
to breed and procreate.
When I became as I am now,
love is sold to us still
as a magical, unearthly destiny,
but only if you are pretty enough, good enough,
only if you are deserving enough.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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914 [06 September 2017]

I gave up on love long ago.

When the idea was fresh, innocent
sweet and sugary pop,
I wallowed in its promise
of clear skies and sunshiny days.

As time passed and it mellowed
in to a sweet honey savored
with a cup of hot tea,
still did I believe,
in its promise of rainy days and warm sheets.

Then it turned into a darker brew,
a lager steeped in hallowed oak
that promised nights of pleasure and satisfaction
with contented mornings and languid days.

It is only when it turned sour,
wine aged too long,
cider spoiled by moldy apples
that its promise revealed the lie hidden
deep within its painful shackles.

I gave up on love long ago,
when its promise died in the froth
of the falsehoods we matured in.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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912 [05 September 2017]

He is like a secret treat,
savored in quiet,
his words uplift and enrich
a day that sometimes seem too long.
If only at the end,
it was he who I returned home to.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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911 [03 September 2017]

The fantasy is broken,
where you and I ever possibly,
may be, might be, could be.
My insecurities rise
like the gates of a castle,
deep like the moat around it.
You were never supposed to be.
Intentions never meant to allow
any of this feeling in.
I am inundated, awash
with a terror filling my entire being
as realization that a mistake
has taken place.
Even if a moment in your presence
was allowed, I wouldn’t.
I am the scullery maid,
you are a member of the King’s court.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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910 [30 August 2017]

To hear your ragged breath
close to my ear
as you press into me.
To feel your palm
rough against my breast
as my nipples tighten.
To open my eyes
with you inside me,
bringing me awake
with a cry of ecstasy
would be a delicious sort of morning.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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909 [29 August 2017]

How does one break
through the walls built
to protect your own heart from others?
Is it a crack,
a small fault in the design
that let’s another in.
Or is it by force,
like pulling tape off skin
that has adhesed a little too well,
I’m not sure but damn
if I don’t wish for the opportunity.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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908 [29 August 2017]

If I could,
I’d break past these walls,
the barriers that keep me from you.
But the reality of life is such a cruel reminder
that while I wish to be with you,
you are still with someone else,
someone who fits more than I would,
and so I must move on.
Hopefully to find someone who can see me
like you do,
someone who can inspire the same feelings
that you do still.
However, I worry.
Worry that those who see me as I am,
are only those that are unavailable
to one such as I.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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