Grace Petry

Meet me on the Mountain
at the moment our souls first met
Our spot in time
woven in vine
...

To my heart, I apologize once more,
for I have failed at love.
Fly away
as the sparrows soar above.
...

Lock up the heart
to unlock the mind
scrape my weathered shoes
on the Unwelcome mat
...

In that moment
the night was alive

She breathed in the abyss
...

In her corpse he saw
a martyr whose death was not
in vain. She mattered.
...

Chemical commands
on dendritic hands reached out
pleading instruction
...

The hair on my neck
reached for the heavens in your
mahogany eyes
...

In every timeline, I will always find you.
You may appear too early for me,
or I may be too late for you.
Just know that I will always wait.
...

My bird my bird
I want to gaze as you soar with the wings of an eagle even if it is not through my blue skies that you fly
Although I want nothing more than to be your serene cyan paradise
I will be just as elated being the nothing that cheers you on camouflaged behind tears of invisibility
...

You dined upon fine china
with fractures healed by gold.
The finest of spices and herbs
whispered secrets still untold.
...

I don't understand why my soul meanders to you.
My body, I understand. I see why mine has an affinity for yours like Hydrogen does for Oxygen. Together they quench our longing for enticement and drench us in delusions and regret. The conduction of your heat draws me closer and closer fulfilling my need to just burn and burn. Your body, I understand.

Your soul, however, I fathom as much as the eagle knows of swimming the depths of the ocean. I yearn to swim the depths of your ocean. Why do I descend further and further until breaths are no more and the brine of your being fills my empty chest? Your essence is alluring and I am simply unable to resist slipping away into the nothing of us. Searching for light my eye sweep right and left but alas the darkness is encompassing. The darkness, I understand.
...

The warmth of vulnerability
has wrapped itself around
Its glow enlightens the void
where sunshine once was found
...

Off of a forked tongue rolls ice and Fire
Lie about the truth
Leave so much to be desired
Proclaim your purity
...

I could knit 48 sweaters
with all the wool to be received
from the restless nights of counting
sheep instead of dreams.
...

I am stuck in here.
There is a small window that teases possibility.
I hate the window, and it must hate me.
...