Heart-heavy Ink 

 

I am a hunter of enamored souls. 
A seeker of truth, in the rawest of emotions and devilish smiles. 
I’m drawn closer to the riddled charms of captive hearts. 
I’m a mirror of their wants and desires. 
A framed version of dreams unmet. 
Look closer at the image before you, 
and you’ll find all that you wanted in me...
all that you wanted in you.

I’m no mirage. 
I am smooth flesh and fantastical words 
used to capture more than your heart and head.

I am tempo and tone, soft edges and hard limits.

My silence is louder than my words, and just as claiming...just as calming. 
Dreams hang like lockets around the necks of lovers,

burdened with past failures and second chances.

Innocence, has no place here. 
The tide of yearning won’t recede. There’s no hiding in the belly of love.

I’ve come to far to sacrifice my truth or settle on coal
when it’s diamonds I seek. 
My manifesto is written in the heart-heavy ink of my past and future.

My hunger grows with every promise,

every well-played word, and the simplest of smiles. 
I am no longer the leader, but a follower of hope.

I’ll feed you my prose, and devour your desires

just to make you whole. 
There’s no stealing what’s given. 
It’s all up to you!

 

~ By Heather Miles •February 2018

 

Never Ending Dream

 

Hope, as granular as sand between intrepid fingers,

formed by the truth of our past,
and the promise of what is tangible if we’re willing to believe.

A pulsing music that echoes like a serenade, beneath the skin,

awakened with a kiss, a word, a smile,

that pulls us from the stagnancy of protection.

A chambered heart takes what it needs,

what it’s been given.

Even when it’s not been given anything.

Your control is flimsy against love.

It’s flimsy against the friend in me.

I am the unknown serpent who steals, but gives two-fold.

I’m the dream that never ends.

If you aren’t whole with me, then love isn’t enough.

Heed my cry...but only if you’re willing to give everything.

I won’t accept less from the lover unknown.

Be the truth of you. Be the truth of me.

I will be the rest.

Mine, isn’t a cry, it is a plea. 

~ Heather Miles • October 2018 

Bittersweet Promises

My heart is a heavy burden, 
inky with words I’m afraid to share. 
I’m penned in truth, but I was sacrificed 
with a lie.

One I made true, because I was a lie too.

I’m newly made.
I’m stitched with dreams that unravel with every touch,

every whispered word, sold in burnt-out flesh. 
The chase is on, but I’m no longer running. 
The destination is no longer assured.

I’m changing to suit you, willingly, openly, freely. 
Yet I hide.
I can taste every bittersweet promise.

The wanton prayers of would be lovers is tangible. 
I can feel your presence. 
The ghost of neediness is haunting.

The billowing nakedness 
that finds me in the light and the dark.

You’re bleeding for me, 
each drop more real than the first.

I’m prayer and pain, love and loss.

I’m controlled chaos to a yearning heart. 
I’ll feed you in friendship and steal your soul,

one kiss at a time. 
My wants are simple and few. 
They can’t be bought with paper or stones,

but with honesty, integrity, and your salvation. 
Love is never bought or traded, it’s earned in truth.

The price is higher than you know,

but I can be had.

 

~ Heather Miles • 2017 

My dreams are smooth and sweet like rich bourbon

poured over a wanton tongue.

I’m a conundrum of gilded desires and beguiling wants

greater than the stretch of mind and tender flesh.

I can taste every emotion, feel every prayer - granted and unmet.

I’m responsible for the heart I carry

and the words that spill out of rose laden lips.

My journey is paved in the tattered history of love and loss,

but my story isn’t just mine.

It’s yours.

It’s stitched with time and choices, good and bad, right and wrong.

I’m both heavyhearted and lighthearted,

but I’ll never lead you on my journey without a map of understanding.

I want to jump into the deep end of perfect promises,

but nothing is what it seems.

The words feel tangible, until they slip between my fingers

and fall like tears at my feet.

I’m my own obstacle.

I’m bigger than life and smaller than I appear.

My reality is on display.

My truth is worth bartering for, but the price is high.

If I hand you my heart and offer to let you have it,

will you be kinder than me?

Will you give it the needed breath that keeps it beating

even when it fails to produce the outcome you yearn for?

Truth is never more than words put into action

and the results are never guaranteed.

My honesty is inked on the pages you read,

behind hazel eyes that seek to understand everything.

Life isn’t watchful waiting, but chasing down the moments that matter.

There’s hope in every unsure step, and faith in the unknown.

I don’t have to see the way, I just have to believe in me.

 

~ Heather Miles • 2017 

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