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π‡π¨π¦πžπ₯𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐒𝐫𝐒𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐑𝐒𝐧𝐠𝐬 π‹π’π€πž π‘π’ππ πžπ¬

π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘‘π‘”π‘’π‘  π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ 𝑠𝑒𝑒, π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘ π‘šπ‘œπ‘œπ‘‘β„Ž π‘‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘’.

By Ángel SierraPublished 2 years ago β€’ 2 min read
By Ruslan Khasanov, who turns human skin into landscapes using nothing but paint and a macro lens

I can't deal with any more spirits right now.

β€Ž

I'm dealing with my own spirit guides

And my own spirit ties.

β€Ž

Canned soup (again) on the agenda

And that song that was paused, I pressed play on.

That was days ago.

You remain no more.

β€Ž

You should have made yourself known.

In spirit isn't always good enoughβ€”

Even though I had a part in β€œholding off,”

I gave myself and I showed up.

I was left with nothing, hardly any bread crumbs . . .

β€Ž

Your secrets will fill you up,

And without them?

Does doubt set in?

Does that set you off,

Like a bomb?

Revenge

β€Ž

Isn't for the faint of heart.

And though you're playing a part,

It's not yours.

β€Ž

You're a gentle soul;

Got caught in a windstorm,

Perhaps, even, one like my own.

My own.

Perhaps I would have never known,

Had you not taken such a role.

β€Ž

In the ridges of the body you feel enslaved to,

Same way I was chained toβ€”

By environment

And a vile basementβ€”

Where I set myself free.

And the ridges that you see,

They are smooth to me.

They soothe me.

Swooned me

Or swindled?

But the days of smooth sailing

Have dwindled.

A spirit rekindled?

My own.

β€Ž

It's my own spirit,

Calling to play fiddler...

On the moon.

From your roof,

You better turn your lights on this time.

I might miss you on my way to the limeβ€”

Silver lines,

Long lines.

Waiting is the theme of our lives.

β€Ž

What do you do in between?

What do you do while waiting for meβ€”

For anything?

β€Ž

Never mindβ€”

No matter the rocky seas

And rigid roads,

I'll be walking alone,

Smoothly

As can be

For a crooked

Life

Like

A white

Lie.

β€Ž

An evangelical cries.

β€Ž

All you homeless spirits,

I've got to hone in my own ridges.

β€Ž

Until further notice,

Seek your own wisdom.

β€Ž

You were one of us once.

You were once.

β€Ž

***Written at 12:22 PM on 11.14 of 2023β€”not a poet, by the way. A writer, thanks.

β€œBeauty is everywhere.” - Ruslan Khasanov

β€Žβ€Ž

Mental playlist as I wrote this:

'Writer in the Dark' by Lorde

'Whenever Wherever' by Shakira for "in between"

Song I pressed play on that morning: 'Dog Days Are Over' by Florence + the Machine

Currently on repeat: 'Sweeter' by Cannons

β€Ž

. . . and that's a life update!

x

β€Ž

Link for artist's work:

artlove poemsnature poetryinspirational

About the Creator

Ángel Sierra

Rhymes, riddles, and occasionally, she giggles.

Every-writer, it's all in me... DO LOOK DOWN!

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Comments (2)

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  • Kylie2 years ago

    This was fantastic already but the evangelical cries TOOK ME OUT

  • Gosh this was so profound and powerful! I also loved your cover photo!

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