poems

Quantities of love.

Quantities of love.

27/09/17

Pure angelic quantities of love.

Sky gifts from night lifts.

Dancing ankles, changing shifts.

Flowing gowns through midnight towns.

Birds howl where the tides growl against rocks made for the soul.

Shoals move as one in the cool water.

fishes swim across her thighs as she’s lifted through the darkest sky.

Rain drops on smoking lips.

“Forever mine” she quips.

Cascading memories like fallen hair.

He’s drawn with her through tarnished lair.

An incomplete serenity gives rise to birth of unity.

Somewhere silenced the owls do howl.

Flowing gowns through midnight towns.

Quantities of love the ghosts allow.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

 

 

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poems

Best ghosts ever

Best ghosts ever.

20/07/17

Interestingly she said don’t forget to be yourself, which is strange considering I was me or at least I presumed I was until she’d commented.

It was then I overthought her presence.

Fantasized about the situation and allowed my mind to run wild with unstoppable conclusions.

Illusions, falsities and make believe delusions.

Realities which could be if I believed and yet I didn’t believe.

I didn’t because I couldn’t remember who I was pretending to be.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

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poems

She still watched you.

She still watched you.

01/06/2017

You know, she’s there, sometimes, watching you like you’re the last thing she’ll taste.

You hear her creaking the floor where she treads softly or in the incline of the sofa as she sits.

Sometimes it’s just the cold breeze or brief sensation of cobwebs on your face.

Other times it’s where you can’t breath or sleep for seeing her image.

Ironic really, considering she’s harmless in the daytime,

Her power manifests from the darkness.

Which is ultimately the only time she could possibly possess you.

Sweet dreams.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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