Handprints
The hands that have touched me left their fingerprints on my soul
A mothers love, her warm cheek resting against the crown of my head,
Her hand on my back as I lay against her chest, rocking, rocking, rocking
The tight grasp of our small hands as our friendship blooms and blossoms,
running through tall grasses in search of the perfect hiding spot
Here I come ready or not

Searching hands that explore boundaries of forbidden fruits
as adolescense erupts; confusing, qustioning, memorizing,
warming the flesh of the fingers that stroke
Handprints engraved onto the granite of the body sculpted
by these curious hands

Hands that shaped and defined love: soft carresses, warm hugs,
hands placed on each of my cheeks as you led me gently into your kiss
Fingers twining the hair at the nape of my neck, splayed at the
small of my back as you gather me to you, comforted in your embrace
head resting upon your chest, the drumming of your heart in my ear

Angry hot hands that lash out without a moments notice, no time to duck
Grasping and grabbing, twisting limbs, hands that sear the flesh
branding handprints upon my skins and tattooing my soul with your pain
The braille you leave upon my body, white scars each telling a story
And yet I forgave you as you cried and begged me to forgive you
confusing this for love

The unnamed rage levied against me, assulting, humiliating and degrading
You smile at your prey, animalistic, tearing and thrusting
You, not even aware that I am there, so carried away in your acts of anger
You confuse this with passion, perhaps lust as I cower beneath you
You rape my body, my mind and my soul leaving me broken as you walk away

Damaged I recede into myself building layers of scar tissue to insulate
against the inhuman acts of humanity. There is no humanity only greed
and need aimed at self fulfillment. You don’t feel my pain, my shame,
only your release and the short disapation of your anger as you continue
I exist, closed off from all emotion, no joy or fear, cowering from touch

It takes a small spark to ignite an inferno that burns to the depths of my core
Memories of handprints lovingly melded into my flesh and the muscle of my heart
float gently to the surface creating a need that must not be ignored
Longing for that comforting hand that soothes the flesh, words that calm the mind,
arm draped comfortably across my shoulder as my head leans against your chest
Your heart drumming in my ear.
Victoria ramsey 2020

A heart softened by hard lessons learned
Lifetime of struggles, nothing free in return
Searching for comfort, kind words, a helping hand,
Nothing as simple as a smile is earned

Hard work, a body crushed and rebuilt
A lifetime of pain, he suffers alone
He never complains, expects no sympathy
Takes his stripes quietly, believes he’s a man

He’ll give you the shirt off his back if you ask
Expects nothing in return, and you don’t disappoint
You have no conscience in using this broken man
As he struggles to survive, surviving anyway that he can

He’s made mistakes, no doubt about it
Things he cannot change, they certainly haunt him
He’s paid dearly here on Earth
Questioned his faith and also his worth

He’s neglected himself at his body’s expense
Now he sits quietly seeking no recompense
Whiling his time until the reaper appears
Taking his stripes, never shedding a tear
(c) victoria ramsey@2016

again

Again
I awaken on skin warmed sheets
Wrapped in cotton, head on feathered pillow
I roll to my left, elongating my arm,
feeling your heat, admiring your sleeping form

Listening intently for your gentle snore
My ears ring in the early morning silence
Eyes open slowly to your empty pillow
abandoned to the shape of your silvered head

I suck in air, inhaling your scent as it wafts
Chill settles over my extended arm
Goosebumps march up my flesh as my hand
searches for you, only the indentation remains

Tears waterfall over lower lids, dripping from cheeks
How many times must I bear this
You leaving me over and over again
as the sun rises, peeking through the window

Rising I feel your embrace, warm kisses on my neck
morning whiskers scratch along my jaw
I meld into your body, reaching for you face
terrified of opening my eyes to brook another lonely day

victoria ramsey 2020

The Daily Post – childhood

Posts by VictoriaFeathers

Little Girls

Long green bean legs and knobby knees
Pink tutu’s bobbing against shapeless thighs
Running and dancing, stopping to twirl
Wide eyed wonder in young girl’s eyes

Dimples in cheeks, she has two, you have one
Big tooth smiles, three teeth gone
See whose legs can faster run
Chasing each other across the lawn

Practicing dance moves they’ve created
Showing off gymnastic tricks
Cartwheels, handstands attempting splits
She can do them now, they’re all elated

Sisters and cousins creating bonds
Holding hands, heartfelt hugs
Innocent moments, good time sharing
Secret smiles and chasing fairies

God Mourns

 

The mingled scent of jasmine, rose, and oleander usually intoxicating

Becomes cloying in the early morning mist, the humidity trapping the scent.

Bird song a cacophony so shrill it blisters the eardrums;

once sweet music telegraphed from the ears directly to the heart.

 

Dark gray clouds tent the land to hold back the sunshine

Flowers hang their heads and shrink into themselves

The earth is parched; cracks split the land where rivers flowed

Love has died; hearts stopped beating, stones wrapped in apathy

 

The cloying smells cover the scent of death of honesty, character and loyalty

Shrill cacophony replaces the art of conversation and compromise

Charcoal replaces the colors of the rainbow, a world of monochrome tilts

People stumble in the gray fog refusing to lift their eyes to Heaven, God mourns

(C) Victoria Ramsey

An hour in the sun

 

Head titled back against the worn wooden bench

Chin pointed at the sun she closes her eyes

Content to listen to birds unseen, sun warming

Her flushed face from cheeks to chest, buttons undone

 

She imagines waves lapping against her bare feet

Feeling not green grass so much as warm sand to tuck her toes into

The laughter and calls of children playing around her

Take her back to long summer days spent on Michigan beaches

 

Sparing breezes wisp across her damp forehead

Moving strands of hair over her temples to tickle

And fan the glistening sheen on her face

The corners of her mouth turn up as delicate fingers caress

 

One eye opens partway and squints at her gold watch

Times has idled on and a quarter hour remains

Allowing her to sit and daydream on this old wooden bench

Carved by time and lovers who immortalized their forever love

(C) victoria ramsey

 

To my dog

 

Sharp rain cuts my skin

Thunder breaks my bones

I hold my breath under water

I fear that I will drown

 

Shake so hard my teeth spill out

I cannot remain afoot

Slogging through sucking mud

Pulled beneath drenched earth

 

Lakes become raging rivers

Surfer waves beat across the lawn

Noah’s ark floats down road

Springs fury beats and defeats blooms

 

You in my lap, arms hold you tight

Quivering, fur flies about the room

Tickling nostrils, choking my breath

Be still my friend, tis only a spring shower

(c) victoria ramsey

 

 

Circles

 

I neglected you as my eyes failed to detect light

And my heart slowly hardened

I no longer heard your words, only the voice

Its cadence lulled me to a stupor, comatose

 

You humiliated me time and again

Your self-serving arrogance

No concerns for my dignity

I walked within your shadow, gathering crumbs

 

Your body failed you and beauty ebbed

Too late you turned to me, I only a shell

Nothing left to offer you

You walked in my shadow, gathering crumbs

Summer Fruit

 

Purple plum juice drips from the corner of his lips

Slowly streams down the sculpted chin and drops

To his white tee shirt forming red blots

His lips curve up and blue eyes light as he leers

 

Flames burn in her cheeks as she watches him eat

Surely he can read her mind, the joy he takes in his plum

She tastes the syrup and feels the press of fruity lips

Against her own hungry mouth, embarrassed thoughts

 

Sliding from the lichen blanketed table she drops

to the carpeted ground taking two steps forward

He continues sucking the juice from his plum

Unblinking eyes smile along with his darkened lips

 

He stands upright, pulling relaxed hips from the table’s edge

Breath catching in her throat, her hand grasps her neck

Pretty feet move forward of their own volition

His back turns to her as he saunters away, smug grin on chiseled face

(c)victoriaramsey@2016

 

 

 

 

Trust Me

 

“Don’t forget” she remarked quietly.

“I won’t” he replied somewhat stoically.

“You will” she mumbles to the floor.

“I won’t, trust me” he lies to her face.

 

Dressed she sits, patiently, ankles crossed.

Hands folded into her lap.

Clocks tic, tic, tic mimics the beating of her heart.

Breathing in and out, refusing to glance at her watch.

 

Collapsing into herself she reclines into the sofa.

Eyes cannot avoid the face of grandfather clock.

She kicks off her heels and runs a hand across her swollen ankles.

Tears stream from red puffy eyes, dripping into puddles on silk sheath.

 

Clothing returned to closet, she pulls warm flannel from the drawer.

Slips between cold cotton sheets, pulls her knees to her chest.

The door opens slowly; bare feet glide across the wooden floor.

She squeezes hers eyes closed and slows her breathing once again.

(c)VictoriaRamsey@2016