when our words run

old words

 

I remember you

your whispered half-questions

resembling the thoughts I almost had

on another cloudy day.

Your honest words filled me,

tempted me into flights of

unexplored consciousness

and step by step I ventured

farther from my own locked doors.

I wandered out alone

into bright, dead-of-day streets

full of my own possibilities

seized by my own fallibilities.

Some days I will meet the gaze

of the demons that haunt this world

but on others

when my self-fed fears are too much

I may need you to walk beside me.

Take my hand.

Your words are my strength.

Your strength is my hope.

My hope is your redemption.

We will save one another.

Reviews

[jcarlson33]

I think there is some striking symbolism in the "dead-of-day" line. Overall, the rhythm is incredibly immersive while still being broken up by the lines. "And step by step I ventured
farther from my own locked doors."
Something about that line really gives a nice brisk rhythm. Part of this poem seems like a biting angst within the speaker competing with the outer source of strength from a loved one. Well done.

[Emily B]

Thank you!

[...]

. the sheer number of times that your words have saved me in the last few days is absolutely unbelievable ... if someone had told me that this would happen, i wouldn't have believed them in a million years ... this post is all that and more ... it's an experience ... it's a reality ... it's a path ... and it glows and glows and glows ... thank you for the light you send my way through your words ... i treasure it and will always be infinitely grateful to you ...

[Alessander]

I remember you
your whispered half-questions
resembling the thoughts I almost had

on another (another adjective) day.
Your honest words filled me,

tempted me into flights
unexplored consciousness ( too many ss?)


step by step, I venture
farther from my own locked doors.

into bright, dead-of-day streets
full of possibilities
seized by fabled fallibiities.


Some days I will meet the gaze
Demons with red eyes and gray teethe
That smell like smoke and devour nostrils


of the demons that haunt this world
but on others
when my self-fed fears are too much


Oh how I hunger
For bread and milk and still starve


I may need you to walk beside me.
Take my hand.
Your words are my strength.
Your strength is my hope.

Nourish me.

Nourish me.


My hope is your redemption.
We will save one another.

[Everett DeValle]

Outstanding poetry...lovely in its simplicity that flows from bends of streams to a river.

[kmartell]

you're thinking now "I need to write a story"

[kmartell]

keep the connections from breaking, we have found ourselves leaning in, listening

[Amplyyours]

I like how your poetry and this piece in particular is always so personal.

[p.kuhl]

I feel like you and I have a somewhat similar writing style. this piece is really well put together, and you really paint a picture with your words. very nice!

[The Analog Kid]

Yes. This is that feeling captured perfectly.

Anytime:)

[joshua deathdealer]

This beautifully inspiring, passionate and hopeful. Excellent work and ending.

[fargone]

a beautiful write, emily. gentle, tho oddly powerful words. impressive. thanks.