-kalika
-kalika
More Posts from By-kalika and Others
A Letter to Love -kalika
Pensacola
a pen to hold us in the summertime
where nature speaks and colors rhyme
sunset reflections across the shoreline
a day well spent to restore my mind
holding onto vitamin D daydreams
while my joy basks in sun-ray beams
and peace blows in with the cool breeze
time froze the devil in the deep blue sea
the ebb and flow; matter in motion
feeling the sea swell as the wind’s blowing
the foamy glaze drifting across the ocean
chasing mole crabs as we’re beach combing
swimming below waves as they break
beach volleyball games well played
in red bikinis while drinking all day
a place far enough from home to escape
carrying sand between my naked toes
buried in the land of a world unknown
where water cools and the warm sun glows
there’s no better place I could’ve chose
-kalika
Me & Christine
A piece of my heart is buried with you, anxiously beating below the sand and soil where you lie.
I kneel next to your grave desperately needing to dig my way back to you.
Maybe if I can retrieve the other half of my heart, you'll somehow come back with it.
Our memories have no rhyme or reason because my heart lacks any consistent beat anymore.
Nearly every ounce of its will throbs tiredly remaining buried beneath the ground, as it rests in the shadow of what was left behind when your soul left your body.
-kalika
Dirty Bath Water
Laying in the bathtub trying to forget what I can't change. The sins of yesterday still taint what's supposed to be cleansing me.
Soaking, I wonder if tomorrow will be better, if tomorrow will be different.
Maybe tomorrow I'll be cleaner.
The bubbles are made of your choices, & your desires are the soap that slides along my scarred & tired body.
Tonight. I lay in the swirling bath of the life you've poured for us.
I try to wash away your sins, scrubbing harder so that somehow I may leave room for the potential I know you have.
Maybe tomorrow I'll be cleaner.
I dream of days where the bubbles may pop & fill the air with wonder, & the soap may be sensual instead of some kind of cleansing ritual.
Scrubbing scrubbing, scrub a little harder, scrub a little longer:
Maybe if you can't change, I'll become someone new.
Tonight, I wash you off of me, watching as our lives swirl down the drain. The stain of your lies rings the rim of my tub like maybe they're stuck here instead of to me this time. If I make this water deeper, will I still feel so blue?
Maybe tomorrow I'll be cleaner; maybe I'll be someone new.
-kalika
ALWAYS RUNNING
-kalika
