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Too many trips of guilt.On the way through blank starswhere we signal our avoided hearts,starting our dream in the void. Too many lessons of spite.We wait for our kisses to break oceans,to break the barriers of timefor love to follow. Of matter and what mattersinside funereal depiction.Nights drawn to crystal tearsfallen onto bloated flesh,while leaves…
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Factors that are utilitarian, being emotions, are where trust has its place. Emotions can be manipulated, because as to flesh, they are real. What is realest to a human is their humanity. Perhaps if the greatest expression of humanity is in our tears, being the trademark to our vulnerability as humans, then while emotions can…
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Some refer to love as what should be meant as unconditional, as though stating it for the sake of promotion. If love is not always unconditional, then how is such able to remain beyond death? How does a person retain memories of what was lost of what was trusted, if the love disappeared with the…
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Yearning, hold a candleto the naked hourglass ofwind and time. Singular form witha cup, full of the desert.While you swaywith the eyes that followrepeated, understood rhythms,count the heart’s thudsbefore the oneagainst a bed of flesh. In love with deathwho possesses breath,still with the sinbreaking in with her kin,her kind who stirsinside this mind. Attention and…
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The distance, to believein tragic shores, grayest moorswhere we were loose on the sleeve,further apartfrom the embrace of reprieve. Droplets on the sleevedotting miles of plaid and plainup to the shoulder of your cloudswhere raining eyes were pressed,matching hearts are blessedbefore layers are undressed – to see the curve to swim against. Dive beneaththe sea,…
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All faces come together,weathered in rose.Blush at the cheek,silver in the breath.Deformed in winter,wilting with the drying tears,matching the puddles.The fading reflection – that weeps without looking back. A love resulting from Heaven,A Hell tossed from the skiesskipping on pools of magma hearts. There are marks in your stonesthat face the numbestof limbs, on the…
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Watch these eyeshold back tears,recede the oceanas arms apart from you.Watch the cold depthsbecome shallow.The sun had setto engulf the hills,to set aflame the pastcluttered in blankets. Smothered inforests and unforgivensins.Watch these yearsturn over no leaves.The sunsetwas an embraceto leave our minds stranded.The sun betrayedthe memorable day.The ocean was a cavewith no light to save.…
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Sometimes, all to ever dois to never answer youthe way I would if you grewbeside me, on the days throughmeadows laced in morning dew. What is there to do,besides refrain from fulfilling you?Your kisses would be bandages,your eyes, distant puddlesin a forest where roots explorethe sadness of depth. You will venture to heal,with a motive…
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The warmth never left.The fire was never out.A spark had kept it,the hearth, of my yearning.The dreams just ache,while the closer I crawlmakes me wander inside therotting reflectionin a mirror. The skies always breakopen, with the clouds fellingthe contents of a void.A walk on a grim path,feeding the birds this remorse,while waiting for sunset. Someone…
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Night glows withall the eternity withfutures stretched acrossfarewells and saddestoceans. Day slows inpain, and gusts infrom the windows toyour eyes, your fallen rain,without shelter. All the funerals stopwhile the hearts slow,while the nights breathe withgrief, in the sighs. All the footsteps turn home,hands bang against wallslike doors of strangers, – though this is familiar. This…
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Here you arewrapped aroundas idle thorns.Breast carved as mountains,hips curved into rivers,veins stretched into branchesfrom the tree of eternity. From Spring’s love,you walk from Autumn into Winter,decked in the flowers youprevent the bitterness from collecting. I’ll hold for as longthe walk will go on.I’ll fade with you, rotting withoutever becoming anew. You cling to me,fingernails…
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Incomplete,in defeat.Stagnant, and apartfrom you, on the brittle highway,leaving bloodstains where Icollided, removing clots,removing barricadeswhere I was meant to stop. Will you still take to me,crippled, red rose?How beautiful you sproutin the deformed night.Red petals, bleak stem,with remembrance to yoursubtle changesthat left me to bury this heartin the scentless earth. Changes, the rearrangementsto what was…
Modern Romanticism 