soulmates – Havoc and Consequence

TWO

With the earth sighing.
And the moon collapsing.
Twin tectonic plates shift in the cells.
An attraction.
A reaction.
Distance, separator.
Godly refraction.
Too much poison.
These angels cast asunder.
Evil : Godly.
Licking wounds from the inside out.
Teacher. Brother.
All come undone, severed from the other.
When I wanted you and the grey began to fade.
With a diamond heart.
And a coal soul.
Now you want this.
To tear us through.
Destroying a dream, choking on your armament.
Ripped, torn, teared in two.
As I stared at you.
Paralysed at being alone.
But still breathing.

02/03/2026 by Mark Ryan Categories: diamonds, soul, soulmates, tornTags: angels, collapse, cosmic imagery, destroy, division, dream destruction, duality, emotional fracture, evil, fear, god, grief, heartbreak, inner conflict, loneliness, longing, mythology, poison, rupture, surviva, tectonic plates, transformation 5 Comments

Patterns on our soul

Wandering in a time of danger.
Leaves me shaking.
My cheeks all rosy red.
Winter, creeping into my eyes like tears.
But inside, it’s all warm.
All still wet.
Gushing a crimson love that is full of elation.
Utopic movements cloaked in everyday actions.
A sideways look to you.
Words pulled from my mouth like pearls.
A cough to breathe, bringing up sand and seaweed.
Having dredged our love from the bottom of the ocean.
Down in the depths where the wreckage once lay.
There is sand in your eyes, sparkling like gold.
You lick moments over me now.
Silky and familiar.
Once a comforting lie, now this time a truth.
This is now, the place we have crashed and shattered into.
Burning still from the fire.
Fading away in the rain of a thousand lifetimes.
Let me suck that eucalyptus air from your lungs.
For I only want to breathe now, if you are breathing.

21/11/202121/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: fate, love, soulmatesTags: art, fate, gold, kiss, love, ocean, poem, Poetry, roamce, safe, soul, soulmate, wreckage, you 10 Comments

Don’t ask why

Through this dusty world.
Like peeking through a cloud.
Humming with red rain.
I caught you in that position.
One to wear with no remorse.
…as if I could.
You fill up my pockets.
You scratch at my soul.
A lovelorn, well-worn hand of care.
That fits me like a glove.

18/02/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: love, rain, soulmatesTags: art, clouds, hand, heart, love, poem, Poetry, rain, red, sky, soul, soulmate Leave a comment