Category: Poetry

Sometimes, to hope for
something small.
A word, a taste from rain,
whether bitter or sweet
to contrast this deafened state
where thunder cannot be heard,
where heartbeats cannot be felt,
when sleeping under
seeping downpours.

I once connected you
to these white sands, countless
when attempted to be
gathered, for security.

To wrap you in arms,
before you slip between
these cracks in me, these fractures
that keep me that broken doll.

One more kiss to find
your crippled shores. I want
all these oceans to touch you.

All these tears, I can
no more swallow. I have choked
on all air I breathe, without
your reach, without your spot
where I can leap.

Clashes to solve,
with more to dissolve
under swirling tides,
where bodies were formless
beneath bottomless clouds
drifting in our heads,
connecting muted sounds
that we eclipse.

Thunder races. Lines are
traced where we
can see. Our oceans cross,
like tears that burn over
pallid cheeks. Contours are
drawn around our bodies,
formless, while dancing
at an ocean’s floor.

Above, those waves are
flaming where we had
told farewells. One little mile,
one more sadness to smile
for, to wipe clean from
a dirtied shore.

Erasing contact, like
passing stars into blurs,
while love had one little slur
to speak, while we were weak
to believe in anything
we can seek.

Passion erodes at those rocks
covered in smears, wallowing in
nothingness with tears.

Thunder diminishes when
silenced, burned out like candles
for deaths of violence.

These sounds
will hurt. Between
pauses, I still rush
to recede you back
to me. If I do not pull,
you will push. You will
force me to turn around
to see a shadow.

If words hurt,
verse will burn
holes, in your
senseless heart.

Leak your eyes,
echo those cries
to deafen this world
into another silence.

Something keeps
returning to keep
your eyes settled for sleep,
dreaming while you weep.

Some measure of
memorable love
helps you to release
all that will ease
you, from strangulation,
from temptation.

Let these passages be
drawn for what can be
understood, while seen
for its burning gleam.

Stretch across
that long overdue
place, that you
oversaw. Dreams were
rough, among clouds,
hopeful among thunder.
Nothing became life,
within that blunder.

Someone else told you
that life cannot worsen,
when hurts are past,
like shadows cast.

No kiss ever
returned, from bliss,
from stings of concern.

Where you turned
like leaves blowing east,
I kept to my knees.

I kept finding fruit
in those shadows, formed
from your tears. Those years
curved against another wall,
as you carved blankness
against these calls.

Where you found consolation,
I stretched for resignation.

I found what lives, inside
snow. I discovered what
always glows, in those emptied
glasses, where words were
connected in burned out,
disconnected reflections.

If Autumn lifts its
leaves, back to trembling
boughs. When all that
fell, comes back to haunt
a deserted mother,
we will see our tears return
up from its surrender,
with words to remember
without fog above
our vast ocean.

Love makes music
in grief, without sight
upon reunion. What drowns
become glimmers among
those waves, gone down
in their crash to lash
those backs, where more
words are written.

Scars being ample,
while Autumn left much
abandoned, for spring’s
ascension. Brought up,
like curtains to begin this
act. Love relives its
presence, in those most
fearful of their existence.

An ocean. One lone shore
where words are drawn
in crystal sands.

A reminder. One clear memory
to what never left, under all
teardrops, never counted.

I cannot care enough
to live, if I cannot
remember enough
to love. All those lines
drawn for winter’s arrival
of gray. Though, you keep
blooming, while hearts
are buried deep.

With this sadness,
comes madness, out of
some former symptom
of gladness. All those tears
that fell, together.
All those downpours
that kept our hopes
only floating.

What travels, if not
meaning to stop? What stops,
if not meaning to sleep?
Even in sleep, a heart
will continue to weep.
Even while it weeps,
a heart will remain deep
in those vines, those thorns
to make it bleed.

Pressure continues a flood
of blood. After sickness leaves,
after we have died,
our place becomes a missing
space, holding hands
with mere flowers.

Stirring glance,
a summer’s dance
where blushing stories
are told, under
forgotten worries.

I will renounce
a scene for remorse.
I will resound
those etched, scrawled vows,
renewing what cannot
leave, from where it
ever stopped.

Caught tears,
in a puddle for collection.
Cards laid down
to gamble, one final time,
on a heart that
forever chimes.

Wiped smears
on cheeks meant to glow.

I come to hear
your grief, where it snows.

I come down this lane
to carve bold words
to erase a stain. While we
dress in all colors,
we are beyond everything
that ever shamed.

I come to nourish you
far from brutal blue.

I come to answer you
from what you never knew.

In each other’s eyes,
for each other’s cries,
within each other’s sighs
disappearing into
afternoon storms.
Drifting above,
falling below.
Winter has ever been
that glacier moving slow.

An inborn slip
to one lying tongue,
as I had to console
that one who took a toll
to breathe, before she sold
her heart, from
a hundred folds, in one
book of promises.

One hundred pauses,
one more break to see
what refuses to believe
in one more ocean,
one more distance to cross.

To see our smoke, our fog
lifting while drifting
our reflections, outward,
stemming from inward.

We breathe upon mirrors
to see signatures, already
written. Breathing to blind
those lights, of thunder
where we never connect.

If heavens held,
in supported wings,
for passion’s melt.
If eyes were skyward,
words were forward,
sentences were clear
without storms.

I had taken to you,
before rocks had fallen.
Ice, with hearts
that sunk with ships.
A love, gone overboard,
burying our skies,
thumping to a faint rhythm,
thundering with a distant sound
where our storm moves on
with its gathered gray.

Speaking in a sequence,
trembling before those cold
windows, that were open.
Freedom kept bleeding
a breath, towards us.

Blue had soon
all its color,
among a blanketing sky.
Wings were frail,
words trailed, under our
weathered feet. We threw hours
to drenched winds. In those
divided minutes, we were
tempted to be silent.

We viewed a distorted complexion
where two birds are forced
to burn their path, through mirrors,
to take flight into fright,
to see truth clinging from a noose,
while hands are held,
inside a melting cage.

We gathered gray
to go on, in our dismay.
Love had lit a fuse
to burn us through,
in this misuse.

Tormented, down to surrender,
while plentiful, while together
as ashes, in wake of our
mirthful, insane spirits.

Contented, to be forever
departed from ever
remaining whole, without contrast
from life that never lasts.

Count our sparks, from afar,
when you will drift, upon a time
you turn towards another door
that I never explored.
Whenever you go,
wherever you will flow,
whenever you show
that your pain has more
to know, tell that other scenery
to never snow.

Memories will rebound,
from those sounds,
these words we burned into
faded, shaded contours.
Shapes, now without
a completeness.

There might be violets
to see from storms.
There might be words
before those swords,
ever were held against
your fragile neck.

Because you want
to disbelieve in those signs,
that we conceived.
Because of that, you moved,
without ever remembering
our state, our bliss.

A dream, this terrible
gave you tremors from a
different source.

A nightmare, this sweet
gave you hope to see
beyond where stains seeped.

Communicational error
surrenders us to terror,
revokes your voice to a choice
I am degraded upon.

A thirst to conceal
all scars you never revealed,
all wounds I ever opened
at those signs, for what
stays broken.

Your eyes, torn
from bloodied bandages.
Your skin, scorned
from its perfection.

I want to find
more of my kind
swept aside.
I wish to cry
more than an ocean
for this earth to move,
for you to never
stand still.

Answers. Reconnect
our surrender. If we keep
summer, drawn over,
as blank pages, we have drowned
in our thunder.

We have left, our eyes
stinging for each other’s stare.
Our passion rises,
our currents swell.
Oceans have moved on,
when fires have died.

We had left, our tongues
at that frozen word,
exploring doubt, in a subtle
shout. One crude sign, upon
a least driven road.
A single point to yield,
before finding out
what we concealed.

Imagery burns at
that sentence, at summer’s
autumn, where leaves
are blank pages.

Reconnect that hourglass,
a figure, for nude design.
One vulnerable clash
between hearts, at a flash.

Departure. At a drift.
Regression, before a kiss
might have receded these waves
while I walk on for cliffs
to send beneath, this fall.

Mute this note. Force one
mouth to close. I have been
too close, for words to connect.

Loss of grace. A lack of water
in its space. Leaving marks, trails
for your ghost to follow.

Dry lips. Emptied arms.
Folded shirts in their plaid
complexity. Are you everywhere,
under burning curtains?
Are you revealed in those stars,
or concealed in these scars?

I walk on, with everything
dragging from pacing eyes.
You have moved on,
facing mountains, before
those curving shores
where we left a few
tears, in discolored sand.