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Poetry from Morgan Elliot


notebook


Wild Emotion


I didn’t think I knew how to have feelings.

I never felt that kind of wild emotion before.

She was a story that raced across my landscape at breakneck speed.

Tossing me high with love, I could feel it with my heart,

As she exhaled wisps of love in the cold desert night.



Walls


I have taken a battering ram to everything that stands between us.

No small feat collapsing walls,

But then new energy makes me run up the stairs in front of me.

A streak of angst moves through me like a comet,

Gone before it can leave a scar in the sky.



Entrapment’s Grip


For a while, I watched her from afar.

She came to me in the cover of night,

Standing at my bedroom door.

A world of possibilities lay

Outside the confines of imminent death,

The dearest and worst of places.


It wasn’t her beauty that sang to me,

Though she was like a wild orchid growing in the air

Inviting me to attach myself to her high tree.

She appeared harmless.

A specimen of brilliance and devilish wit, dazzling, and irrepressible.

My guileless heart was ensnared.


I never knew

There would be danger in her touch,

Simultaneously enchanting and entrapping.

Promises were made

Hidden in a dance of seduction,

Coloring my sky with passions of the mind.


Never did I imagine

My laughter would cost a fortune,

A thousand moments of pain.

Entrapped in my illusion,

I began to wilt.

She enjoyed the chase more than the prize.


Forlornness swallowed me.

Trapped in my shattered world,

All I could see was a mask covering her heart.

Awakening from my stupor,

The mistake I had made held in my hand.

There was no way back.


A costly investment,

A barter of my sorrow, craving the next drop,

Wishing for what was long gone.

Not trusting my mind,

Its agenda to guard the pain so I will never forget,

I opened the cage, exposing the wound.


Captured in a moment of time,

A promise of freedom, the journey uncharted,

Yet desperately welcomed.

A bitter-sweet memory in the outskirts of my mind,

Anger exhausted, love reimagined, entrapment’s grip consumed.

The clouds no longer wage war in the sky.

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