Three Poems by Juliah D.
Ink
The thing is, the whole time I thought about doing it, I was thinking about how it would affect you. It somehow didn’t stop me though. You’ll never get it but that’s okay. It’s hard to tell when it’s over because the itch still remains where it was just moments ago. The resemblance is uncanny.
Roadside Tour
I didn’t even care when you told me, and that’s the absolute truth. You’d be gone, you said, for eight whole weeks. Singing and touring, and travelling on a bus. It wasn’t hard to convince you that I would miss you, you believe everything I say. When you’re gone though, I’ll form my own band.
Songs and Sounds
Our summer of soul begins,
our deepest secrets buried in the seed of the Black Locust tree.
My wild love, unknown to the changing winds,
the roots, the stems, the leaves, left only for us to see.
.
Take the signs of morning, make of them what you will,
the sunrise is your favourite, you said it on a Sunday.
From your words, a sense of silk makes its way to the hill,
a swim to the moon, a dream in your hair, so many shaded of grey.
.
An awakening saved for the keeper of keys,
it was the first thing I looked for, resembling a curl of smoke.
An unconscious uttering that conquers, that feeds,
undiscovered, obscure, misunderstood by common folk.
.
Not three words, but three letters instead,
I don’t even mind that you’re in my head.
