Andi Leigh Writes

Needle felt heart, Pinned oh so many times. Pricked and strained, Stitched again, Shaped into what it Needs to be. To be seen As perfect representation Of undying adoration. Until brought to a flame And fibers are scathed, Scattered, and particles Forgotten. Oh well, Things happen and It’s rotten.

Ocean, float me down To an odd world never seen, And show me stories.

Is it August yet? He’ll get her favorite flowers. And visit where she rests. And sip a little whiskey, Pour some for her too. First dance never happened. She closed her eyes too soon.

They can’t begin to understand How tears flow like a stream. Gushing, rushing rivers and One measly hopeless dream. Then one day, the tears ran dry, The rivers stopped their flow. Drought-stricken waterways, Too disheartened to even go.

Dressed up with new ink. Show of personality. Lasting expression.

Fear in great green eyes. Inevitable darling. She expects a storm.

A reading chair With many a reader. Fabric manifesting Signs of worn. Torn, but cherished. A comfort to many. Stories plenty. Stacked on sunken Armrest, read. With the next reader Ready to occupy Its adept embrace.

Bookstore blues, Looming slothful Urge to sink. But think, Sweet progress. Wade through mess, Appearing triumphant On the other side. You’ll find The unreachable goal In your callused palms. No qualms. And a restful night Awaits.

Counting stars In the eyes Of troubled heart, In quite a bind. Share the stress, Don’t walk alone. Shining so bright Just as moonstone.

Bite of a spider. Proceed with surgical steel. So worth the swelling.

Trampled down, Inside out. The spent heart, Declines to sing. A spiraling pit Of pearly doubt Presents delight To not a thing.

Bound bird, Lone in keep. Tiny perch, Plenty seed. Lonely chirp, No strength For song. Bound bird, They did You wrong.

Take a suitcase On the train, And travel to The end of time. See the stars Fall from the sky, And embrace The galaxies That collide.

Heavy knees, Heavy eyes. Unable to fully Recognize, The sleepless Fidgets. The Soulless gaze, That’s imprinted On my face today. Restless even with Rest-full hours, Dreams of climbing Up tall stone towers. Then crashing down Into a woken state. Always tired Is my fate.

I see it through The spinning glass. A heart worth more Than simple silk. A soul ignited Into healing flames, And chases the hollow Despairs away.

I feel their body warmth symphony Sustaining the shine, the glimmer, In my woeful eyes. Uncursed Sense of belonging, drawing, On tethered heartstrings. Just two human beings, Feeling, constant dealing With the unfathomable lies That are told to scold, Our purest truth.