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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906 Walls [24 August 2017]

I am the fool
locked in a castle
of my own making.
Be the battering ram
that frees me from
this cage.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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905 Invitation [24 August 2017]

All these words are for you,
every incarnation,
every tear-drowned script
all for the promise of you.
Whether you be,
and forever stay,
the figment, the fantasy,
or the flesh and blood,
the real, the true.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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Happy New Year!

Well hello all you fine people!

As always, thank you for following my poetry blog and I hope that you are enjoying it. This year I have numerous goals, not necessarily resolutions. One of them is to write a poem a day. I hope that I will be able to accomplish this. But I will be ready to forgive myself if it doesn’t happen.

Anyhow, thank you again for following my writing and I wish the best for you in 2018!

Regards,

Johanna

 

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904 [27 July 2017]

I was born a 90s kid,
passing by the 80s
before I knew what was what,
thus I grew up
learning the pop culture abundant
taking to heart the stories told,
believing that the saving was done
when love’s true embrace
kissed away the troubles in life.
Waking to the reality of things,
was a long and fraught-filled journey
that I still find myself on,
lost sometimes in dark spaces,
trembling in distress,
fearing that the love I wished for
did not exist at all as I knew it.
Where I thought love lived,
was merely illusion and
the knives peeled back
the fragile and crumbling paper to reveal
that love is not one form
but many.
And true love an exaggeration
of a bond formed by biochemical response.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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902 [30 June 2017]

I want to run up that hill,
stand on the crest,
raise my arms and hands to the sky,
shouting to the world
that I am finished with you,
that I am over you,
but it would be a lie.

It would be a lie because
I still wonder what shape your face would take,
if you gazed at me,
really looked at me,
like a lover’s eyes caressing,
phantom but true
over my skin.

It would be a lie because
I still hear your voice in my mind
encouraging me, teasing me,
laughing at a shared joke,
the gentle tones comforting me
when the ravages of my mind
storm and brew in great dark clouds.

It would be a lie because
I still imagine how it feels
to have the texture of your palm
follow the contours of my skin,
the rasping of your calluses
as they cover the soft
and warm areas of my body.

It would be a lie because
I still yearn to know
what scent a fresh shower sends to my nose,
the combination of the soap you use
when it reacts to your natural pheromones,
to drown in you as I inhale
the aroma of your life.

It would be a lie because
my tongue still yearns
to lap at the hollow of your throat
processing the flavor of your skin, your sweat
to flex against you as our lips stop
pretending to belong to separate people
cataloguing your essence in perpetuum.

It would be a lie because
I still, everything still
wishes to revolve around you
to find out all the characteristics of you
that create the whole of your person
to know the truth behind what I
can only fathom from a distance.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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901 [16 June 2017]

In the deepest part of me,
the truth resides.
It’s prickly thorns ready
to ward me off,
keeping me away from it
either for a good or not so positive reason
but still I peek at it.
Surreptitiously across the heavily populated
caverns of my mind.
Meanwhile, his figure moves around
the fields of my awareness.
Every day the feeling gaining in strength
that there might be,
may be,
possibly could be,
a chance.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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900 [16 June 2017]

Sometimes words escape me,
the emotions flowing through
that visceral, physical part
of the human being I am.
too much,
too large,
too deep.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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899 [15 May 2017]

The life I grew up in
portrayed me and others like me
as princess, damsel in distress,
always awaiting the white knight.
The type-casting never quite fit for me,
as I always wanted to reach for
the sword, the crossbow, the steadfast mount,
thus when I became older I settled
for being the knight,
leading true change and brandishing
a sense of justice of bravery
expected of one such as that.
It wasn’t until later that I
didn’t quite fit that role either,
that as much as I liked being that,
I wasn’t the one to rescue anyone
or stand at the forefront of a battlefield.
Instead of the princess, or the knight,
or even the queen,
I am the monster, the beast many fear.
Awkward, protecting what I consider mine.
Often misunderstood, sometimes hunted,
I am the dragon crouched in my lair,
brooding, turning away any well-intentioned heroes.
The antithesis of all I was told to be
I will not be saved by a white knight,
nor will a princess sway me.
Here in my cavern shall I remain,
occasionally spreading my silver wings
waiting for the soft touch of hand
of the person who chooses to risk my fire
for the fierce protectiveness and tortured compassion
behind the mask of strength and free will,
the rider and compassion I have searched for.

© Johanna Kaye Fugitt 2017

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