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Different in each question.I let the hours flow,as I watch your skin,beginning to glow.Your kiss. Here, you reminisce – on the holes we drilledto flood the floorsfrom our chests. A caress on each healing wound. Undress you, under the stars,until the bright of noon. Each time, you fall back,stay to cling.Your breast. A pair oflegs,…
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Nothing else is able to hurtin the smile, deprived of the stir, – the stirring of a heart.The blurring of a cloggedpair of eyes. But withinwhere water is left,the reservoir, kept idleas the blue moonfusing in the nighttime gloom.Here, I wait for the handthat always trembled – in the bloomof a love that awaitedits eternal…
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Awakened.Mating call. Waitingfor the ring around a neck,for the neck to be wrung.A strangulation. A kiss, – one love that left in the bliss. From the nest,newborn, in the birthof all the earth’s water. Forests. Deep roots,blind eyes that never believedin the tears we both grieved.What was Iin the songs of misery? Where was Iin…
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Night.Crawling. It is unboxing – the daylight you weather after – in the voicewhere you are sheltered. Rain comes downto cry for you.The sights. The afterthoughtfor what pours after the thought.During the multi-facetsin the intimaterhythm of the ultimate – rhymes, decorated in blue,after the stormcoated us in gray. And light. Vibrance in youwants to let…
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Off a cliff. Caughtadrift, on the slope,burning for the fuelthat poured into this love.Sad state. Running with blacktar, from eyes not looking back. You keep cryingfor the mile, behind us. Summer left us.Winter dresses youin white frost, a canvas.Black, running waterfrom your eyes that seenothingness in bothsides of a blurred coin. Gentlest touch.A finger to…
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“Anti-science: universally agreeing with science. When a politician will say, ‘follow the science’, they won’t be for science, because that politician is telling you to agree with the science, without ever questioning the legitimacy behind the data. When the scientific method must require falsifiability for itself to be disprovable, then it is science. And when…
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Left around. Swung aroundthe table for the cards you left,in the gamble, the gameI remain to play.I pray for you to staydeep within, on the other sideof the playing field. Lost sight. A goal rushed.An avenue collapsed, to the cover-upthat fell short. We fell shortin our deceptions – for how often are we with selection?…
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Was it all? Waiting – while yousweep the floor, matching the color.Your burial in the bathroom.Hung of hair, bottled inteardrops, in segments of winter’s love.It forced you to deposit. Found youa different path into Heaven. But youalways rained from the ceilingwith your neck. Your neck is swinging.It is your throat I kissed.One more to the…
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“When choice is a factor for being itself, as the place of knowing it was one thing or another, then what wasn’t chosen is what might or might not be the correct decision, according to another factor, being responsibility. For if we are able to choose, then we are able to be free. However, if…
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Oncewhen we did displayour tears in the rain,our formstraced in the grain,blending gravity withour lonesome compulsions, – we drew our eyes apartfrom the dangerous road,holding ends as were rosesburned into sand,crisscrossed into hands. Nowwhen we are divergingfrom the path thatto our foresight, to ourweeping smiles, fading suns,we have much to move forthe moon to change…
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Head on the pillow. Her head in his arms, here daydreaming of the days when he would do that. When he would hold her, the rain fell upwards from her eyes. When he would hold her, the stars were only ever beneath herself. Far beneath, she had been held, as she now is stretched across…
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“We are afraid of the hurt that love can cause. We are often willing to avoid it, at all costs. When thinking for this, we believe it better to be feared, than to be loved, though only the latter requires more risk. When we love someone else more than ourselves, then when the other is…
Modern Romanticism 