Truth

truth

desperation tears through the veil of reason
that so valiantly fights to disguise despair.
logic retreats and fear commands acknowledgement.
fatal weakness gives the darkness rule.
reigning over trembling lies,
disease destroys the false calm
and rage releases its fury
as truth plunges deep into the soul
like the mortal blow of a poison tipped sword.
the sharp blade cuts cleanly and precisely
through thin attempts to save a dying deception.
drops of reality flow with determination
from a gaping wound.

– Originally published in SickLit Magazine 4/28/2016.

And Love Remains

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– Originally published in SickLit Magazine 4/28/2016. Photograph ©2007 Leara Morris-Clark

Those blue eyes raining tears of love and pain
watch over me
and find no fault,
though it is fault I see.
The sun shining amid the morning grey
brings revelation
to another day and here beneath its warmth
we find though night has faded
and the morning light
exposes those dreams made true in the darkness,
my love is for certain
and though I may have fault,
I find none with you.
Through foggy morning thoughts
I see those blue eyes
emanating the love
that could not be hidden should you even try.
I rise to meet your kiss and
we linger somewhere in the middle
where fear disappears
and that love remains.

Depraved / Truth / Gently Carefully / And Love Remains – by LEARA MORRIS-CLARK

So excited to have some of my poetry published in SickLit Mag today!

SICK LIT MAGAZINE

Depraved

You steal my breath

and hold my life within your grasp.

I fear my heart should burst

with the lack of you.

My blood flows

at your touch,

exposing me for all that I am.

Your light shines upon my face

and uncovers my sin.

Darkness

no longer conceals

that which is despised –

within the shadows hidden.

My skin trembles

as your breath

reveals my humanity.

I long for you to discover –

unveil me before you.

With your departure,

you undo me.

My secret belongs to you.

To wither in the sunrise

is a deserving sacrifice

for the gift of

your ambiguity.

I choke on my confession

and you dare not hear it,

for I am destined to depravity.


Truth

desperation tears through the veil of reason

that so valiantly fights to disguise despair.

logic retreats and fear commands acknowledgement.

fatal weakness gives the darkness rule.

reigning…

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Who Cares?

They think they hear his voice tonight.

“Who cares!?” She yells, and slams the door.

I care.

“Who cares?” He says, and leaves once more.

I care.

She screams into a pillow. He slams his hand on the steering wheel.

I’m scared.

These days anger is all they seem to feel.

It’s not fair.

Who cares? He thinks as he stares up the stairs and wonders why they fight.

Do they care that he used to cry himself to sleep at night?

They think he’s gone, but he’s still here, even though it’s been a year.

They think they hear his voice tonight.

He heads for the door. She turns on the light.

They meet on the porch to make things right.

“I care,” she cries. “I care,” he replies.

“I care.” They hear, though barely more than a sigh.

– Written for YeahWrite.me Weekly Fiction|Poetry Writing Challenge 262 Question Prompt “Who cares?” WC 133