Andi Leigh Writes

I want to hear every word You think to say. Every thought, plucked Fresh from forest grounds That nourishes your voice. Every chance, worth speaking, Lovingly strung like lights, Decorating the dullness of night. Remind me of the starlit sky, By adding more stars, Brightening nights, And gifting individuality.

Ghost watches her bones. Scattered near the dismal lake. Name weathered by winds.

Stomach churning hot. A knife stuck in abdomen. Sirens in the night.

A deep breath to drink. Sand-filled lungs squish paper heart. Count colors to calm.

Toxic daydreaming Shielding from reality. Resentful truth spills.

Orange blossoms rest Upon a worn skull so brave. Once a strong fighter.

They hold up their reflection, They hold up their past. Strong-willed and persistent To mend broken glass. Shattered mirror image, Pieces scattered in odd winds. They look at their reflection, And see their old sins. Their reflection was them, And how they came to be So strong-willed and persistent, And now both are free.

Troubled mindfulness. With a need to dig deeper. And met with shadows.

Horrid ideas Melt through barriers in place. Regret then blossoms.

Something burns within. Like a woodpecker tapping. Holes burrow in hearts.

Broken violin. Hidden deep in the closet. Dreams were crushed so young.

Please call me crazy. I hope it’s me. Not the world. No hope for either.

Feel the earth quaking. The mother cries for children. We burn it all down.

Morning energy Depleting with every word. Solitude recharge.

Fill me with sugar. And keep my long days sweeter. Can’t taste the poison.

Weight on cracking bones. They hear crunching but add on. Soon I will collapse.

Great stone heart melts clean. Walls come down. Wheat fields bloom sweet. Calm winds lit with gold.

Cold inside. Heartfelt. Fires stoked and brought to life. Wood-burning comfort.

Curiosity Kills me since I see it all. All paths promising.

Mason bees at work. Free from the honey cycle. Humans don’t demand.

Lemonade daydream. A sweetly sour fantasy. True world so bitter.

Pink chocolate frogs. Filled with strawberries and cream. A gift thrown away.

Old film camera Capturing such wistful smiles. The past pushed forward.

She walks to the pier. Paper boat sent in water. She can’t hold his hand.

They hear me sigh, See me cry and wonder, Only wonder why, I feel so broken. When nothing bad Goes on or happens, But I still feel the same. The same emptiness That spirals me down, Down, down the cliffside. I’ve tried to spin words To feed them understanding, Though they keep demanding An explanation they can fit, File under feelings, they clearly Have never tasted.

Trouble with the wing clips. The hateful act won’t stop. They aim to clip and cage, Berate— They claim they save. But even so, those who fly Will soar with stronger wings. Sheers will dull, go brittle, And completely rust away.

There’s something about the rain, That tells me it’s all right. It delivers whispers To meet concrete and grass. It smells like comfort While it strings through the sky. But it lets me know That I’m okay. And the storms will end. They’ll end And the skies will clear.

The song lingers, On tips of tongues. Dripping forlorn pools, It clouds thought strands; Pulling fibers mercilessly. Shouted by all who breathe, Or hummed if preferred. In all forms, it spins, Knocking out the senses. A lived-in substance, Stuck like coursing blood. No restless vengeance. At best, we give in.

Bear the painstaking ache Of heart shredded, frayed. And reconstruct the scraps, Intending to rehabilitate. It may be so, a simple task. Scars are showcased prominently. And though the heart is damaged, It is deeply loved so strongly.

A flicker at night, Shimmers in the dark. There’s a twinkle there In the foggy woods. And old memory perhaps, Of lost young soul? Dancing in hopes That she’ll be seen! But no one pays no mind. They only see the shimmer. Her name is lost.

Long lost teddy bear spotted In frosted shop windowsill. Black button eye gone, Lost to rats who scurry In mournful alleyways. Familiarity known By the initialed ear. But still with a radiant smile. A stitched demeanor, adoring. Sold promptly for mere cents Yet worth more than the world. It’s time to go on home. It’s time to tell stories.

Night takes daylight away. The sun goes to sleep. We’re left here wondering When will the moon leap? The days are ever shorter, And smiles now go away. Every year, the same thing. But still, I miss the day.

Do you ever feel lost? Drifting in silent revelation. Only breaths to keep company. Uncomfortable in a chair, Joined by the hum of the kitchen While dozing at the table. All alone in this moment But knowing it isn’t true loneliness. Just briefly empty.