Knowing so obviously that I've fallen head over heels
Knowing calm for those few days and remembering how peace feels
Knowing that by his side is the only place I sleep so soundly
Knowing that I find my comfort with his arms around me
Knowing for those few days what it's like to be me again
Knowing to take advantage of the pleasure that only comes now and then
Knowing for those few days what happiness actually is
Knowing with every touch that my feelings are not his
Knowing for those days that I can relax and breathe
Knowing the ache of missing him almost as soon as I leave
Knowing for those days I can relax and let my guard down
Knowing that I can't really have what I have finally found
Knowing how slowly the visits come and how quickly the days passed
Knowing with every smile and every laugh we share that it will never last
Knowing with every kiss that he'll never truly be mine
Knowing with every visit that I'm on borrowed time
Knowing that I can't utter the words to his face and trying hard to hide them
Knowing that I can't show him the tears and must deny that I cried them
Knowing that I've found my happy place but I can't stay
Knowing so clearly what I want and seeing it slipping away
About the author
Faerie
There once was a girl who loved fairy tales. She loved fantasy of any kind. Her mother introduced her to Jim Henson, Brian Froud, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and many others. She grew up in fantasy. She loved faeries, dragons, elves, goblins, swords, a bow and arrow, daggers, and mystical powers. She loved songs and dances too. She loved all the colors of the rainbow and believed in freedom. She dyed her hair pink, green, purple, blue, and yellow too. When she grew older she got tattoos and piercings. She read many books and wrote lots of stories herself. She loved to go to rivers, beaches, and lakes. She loved the forests. She'd sit on huge fallen trees and look at the sun as it filtered through the upper branches. She wore platforms, heels, fishnets, corsets, and wings. She wore skirts, tunics, colorful glittery shimmer and dramatic dark eyes. She wore fluffy hats, mittens like cats, gloves, and scarves two sizes too big for her. She wore pretty delicates that no one would ever see. But in the forest she would always go with bare feet. She took photos of herself all dressed up. She drew, painted, photographed, wrote, and composed. She cried, got angry, and got deliriously happy all over again. People stared at her, condemned her, chastised her. People made her sad, angry, and scared. Suicidal sometimes. Music made her happy, complete, spiritual, and not alone. So she danced outside her door, down the grassy hill, and into the woods. The wind blew her colorful hair all around. She danced through the trees, with them, and whistled with the wind. She kicked off her shoes and danced on the delicate grass and soft dirt. She jumped into puddles and squished mud between her toes. She looked up and followed the sun through the trees as she danced herself into a clearing. She looked down and saw herself inside a faerie ring. She smiled and danced excitedly. She spun in circles, lifted her hands to the sky, and closed her eyes. Then the ground shook. It broke apart beneath her feet. She let out a happy gasp as the earth swallowed her and closed back up. Somewhere a tree sighed.
By Amanda Lyonsabout 20 hours ago in Poets
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