Turkish Apricots

My morning ritual

Consists of 

Two turkish apricots

And enough black

Coffee to chase

Last night's insomnia

Away

The full moon

Brings

Fever to my skin

And my mind

Is as restless

As the wind

That uprooted

The weeping willow

In my backyard 

Longing to feel 

Content in my stillness

I meditate for peace

To wash over me

She never shows 

My bruises are fading

From violet to green

And I don't reach

For the whiskey

As often as I used to

Minute by minute

I breathe through 

Each day

Holding lightly and

Unfurling my fists

To watch the 

Crescent scars 

Disappear.

~Amber Comber 2016

Ether

I am not his 

He is not mine 

We connect in the ether 

Where 

Time and space 

Have no relevance 

Where

Moral compasses cease to exist

I tell myself to hold on ever so lightly 

For I will never be able to capture air...

~Amber Comber

Afar

I have fashioned this cage

That surrounds me

Rusted wrought iron

Spires that pierce 

The perfect blue sky

Everything looks beautiful 

From afar

When you can possess 

It without fear

How ugly we have become

Clutching to the past

And fervently trying

To control the outcome 

When staying is killing you

Slowly

But leaving is a shotgun to the

Head

No one wins in this cruel game

And no one is to blame

I burn inside while

Bruising outside

Wanting to peel 

Each

Layer

of 

Skin

Free.

~Amber Comber 2016