by Nadia Lynn Casey
(adnasc3ntia/weekendcaravan)
We are a pulse,
swelling,
and heat-
singing beneath our skin.
Our eyes become us,
and yours are heavy with sleep,
the weight of an open heart.
Eyelids lifting,
your gaze is sun.
Now, incandescently stunned,
I am lacking in air and the reliability of my feet.
by Nadia Casey, May 2013
I have been trying so hard to save you,
thinking I could hold you together
with my charred wings.
I sing into your darkness,
and hold my breath.
I am waiting to blow the ashes from your eyes,
but you are right,
I am wrong,
and you won’t open your eyes anyway.
By Nadia Casey, 2012
A poet’s blood is ink.
If you look closely,
you can see the words scripted in their veins.
A poet’s heart swells with the loudest silence.
How else could a poem be?
by Nadia Lynn Casey, 3/5/2013
I run on the incentive of coffee and the smell of your skin.
Our brains are wired in such a way
that smell and taste are so
intimately connected to memories.
You waft through my mind
like cafe`aromas from below your second floor apartment.
The jolt of caffeine and the thought of your kiss mingle.
I told a waiter today I wanted a hot cup of you.
A Freudian slip.
I sip.
By Nadia Lynn Casey, 11/12/2012
I want to wake up in a bed with white covers
and the sun tickling our skin.
You would open your eyes half-way,
and let a smile steal your lips before I claim them.
We are warm
and I am safe under cotton sheets
and the strength of your arms.
You are a lion in the morning,
with heavy limbs and gentle words.
I think this as I touch your face,
as we breathe.
I crave
to wake up with you
always.
By Nadia Lynn Casey, 11/12/2012
I love him as he sits down to dinner
the gentleness of his eyes
secure me
I love him when our hip bones fit
pressed so close,
but I only want to be closer.
I love this love like the tides
when you pull away
you pull me in
crashing me into your shores
a gasping fish clinging to the sand
You lay me back in the water
so I can crave the air
By Nadia Lynn Casey, 11/12/2012
you blew through the room like quicksilver carried on a breeze
I caught you in that moment
my fingers being the rocks on which the ocean foam disperses
you flickered fluidly from my line of sight
[by Nadia Lynn Casey]
The way she blew through my heart was effortless,
smoothing every edge and ridge.
A gale,
swirling amuck the forgotten clutter into a sudden pulse that echoed in my ears and throbbed in my throat.
A breath,
in or out,
it didn’t matter,
but the dust motes rose from the depths of my unused lungs, swelling with the tantalizing taste of oxygen and life.
Every storm fades,
but she was held captive,
sealed away as her winds became prey to lit candles,
her breath of life extinguished.
There is darkness.
I wonder how I can still breathe.
My blood aches as it binds to oxygen,
carries it to my leaden chest.
If I had only been there
when the dying gusts of a hurricane escaped her stilling lips,
I would have sipped the air into my parched lungs,
soothed my blood when it sang for her in my veins.
My mother, the hurricane!
She raged,
quenched,
the earth would yield to her.
Nadia Lynn Casey, 9/2/2012
(Source: facebook.com)
Demeter,
You shielded me from stars,
and laid me in your molten womb.
I only died a little.
Charon,
brandishing headlights,
you drove your Honda
to cater Death’s company,
thinking Death only worked days,
after all.
Aphrodite,
Glowing with your garnet ring,
you told me to sing
how grace had saved a wretch like me,
but you were the goddess of love,
not grace.
Atlas,
You carried me on your shoulders,
but the weight of the world was there, too.
A Titan can only hold so much
Before the earth begins to quake.
Eris,
Can’t you handle the chaos you create?
The apple you threw
did nothing but bruise us.
Morpheus,
I am done arguing with your dreams.
They are as a real as your promise
to see my children.
Eurydice,
I should have known you would take me with you
By Nadia Lynn Casey, 2012
