Resignation sowed deeply  in my brow.
Darkness mirrored darkness;
I had never been aware of the Ocean’s eyes –
Beckoning, and easing limbs like it were Novocain.
Its come hither gaze held promised power
To bring peace, end tumult bred by self-righteousness.

Salt water sprayed like moon shards,
And I breathed a yielding sigh.
I left my old life behind
Stepping off the cliff at River bay.
In the black brine my lungs ached,
My vision spun
But I didn’t seek an escape.
Surrendered to the roar,
To the upside down, round and round
Cacophony, and its bright lights.
There came peace, with it, stillness,
No more stones thrown my way but
Too soon was rest torn from me.
I burned from crown to painted toes.
My bones and nerves ablaze,
My pores steamed in a watery grave.
Entangled in moss, in plastic,
The corroding grime of human consumption
And dead sea turtles, I awakened
Thirsty for fear and life.

(Excerpt: reworking of a longer poem.)

adrienne ophelia
Instagram: @ophelias.eyes




I wait ’til your

adulations and adoration turns to salted ground.

You gave, then took your laurels back

and I expected it.

This instant game of gratification

with an eye on fame, on self,

on self,

on self and I,

isn’t one I’m interested in.

Feed me with ripe muse,

I’ll feed you with filling fruit,

and our gardens will flourish

side by side.

adrienne ophelia
Instagram: @ophelias.eyes


My heart instead of glass
he stepped on it.
I wanted to love this best-friend
and be loved by him.
Think I spent too many years on the mend
for paper thin strength, and these paper thin scars –
Fell desperately in need again.
A fellow cold as scales, blowing
forked nicotine trails said a girl like me
was only ever good enough to fuck.
I believed him but never stepped foot
in his dorm. Never gave him that
virgin’s notch. Still I longed;
humans aren’t meant to be alone
and loneliness I feared more than he
I clung to despite Machiavellian ties,
his honeyed lies. Never turned my flesh
blue but skinned me raw in other ways –
a pastime.
Reduced to debris in flood water, I floated
away. When I was six I oft dreamt of drowning,
ever drowning. Sick to death of love, of hurt, of
settling in the many folds of intersectionality like grime
‘til the wordsmith said ‘hi’. And in him was goodness.
The twisted, forlorn voices that were mine
shrunk to nothingness. He rock, paper, scissor a path
to knowing me in flux. Electrifying poetic blue eyes reached
into the mess, into the shifting ruins of myself, coloured
a world where I was more than foreign; a dirty secret, undeserving. I became human. A woman to taste the seasons now. He calls me gorgeous every day. ©

Instagram: @ophelias.eyes

Pieces: an Anthology on Sale at Amazon!