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Hold this ropealongside, for those sideswe might have crossed. Kisses for our eyesback into amnesia,back into reminderfor what we lost. A thin ray from a moonsets us to sleep,too soon, too late. A newborn child’s curiositygrew from sheltering blankets,for lips to breathe nebulas,for arms to wield oceans.We were infants with our gazesfinding stars, while our
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No one cantend to your land.No one canlift Autumn leavesup to where youstand, with tears thatfloat. Like a messageencrusted as grief’s hiddenanswer, you are thistree, with stretching limbs. You are in bliss,only when you are weeping.You are missed,when you are revealinga world that went gray. In these hands,I have caught what youhave dropped. Withall that
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Blank, that. Blanket thoseorbs of spider-woven breasts,while we breathe a towninto infantile silence. Slender one. Tender, to noneother, than a man’s hunger. Taken in. Taken, againto see your eyes this helplessto bare your flesh, in sickness,safe in a sinful story. You warn me. Kept to beingcareful. While I am here,you will demand. You willentertain these
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When upon. Whereuponthose pages we typed,described. Whenever,wherever we mourn outsidethose sides of crystalmirrors. Desperate reflection,viewing darker sidesbehind hands that conceal. These foreverpromises to believein anything more thanpainful grief. Graceful. When grateful,while wielding our courageto escape from dark halls. Wasteful. When kissestremble, under those risingeyelids that see. Always seeingpaining swells in oceans. Colored vows. Vanityoften resembles
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Grieve awhile. Find asmile, tied upon thin tracks.You were always giftedfor yearnful endings.When water everlifts you, I mightempty you. I willhand you our stories,on silver cutting boards. A new covering. Anewto heal, without yoursetting of facelessformations, in those whiteclouds. This infinite displayof dust, upon an ocean’scurves: it holds us. Warm, to kneeldown, to cold waters,while
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Stalled eyes. Wanderingupon a lonesome. Meanderingwhere thoughts considerunspent moments, beneathgrey weather. Here, yourreflection burns a hole,your eyes have run ahead,upon this road that wewere both meant to dread. Lingering hours. Tresses thatfall back in flooding wind.A scent caught. Tearstainsbrought. Down, onto your effigythat burns, a former mileleaving flesh tangledin a reverie’s whirlwind. I remember, while
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Bloom phantoms.With us. Forget us,this world of infinitetomorrows. Soldiers weep on.Sunsets bring downa bucket to our eyes,bringing upa lake-full of yourpremature desertions. You took apartyour flesh. Behind us,death lurked withfaces, too many. Shadows build a hallway.Love creates a ceilingfor pleasure’s releasing.While we reknitthese eyes, opened withtears roaming on,hands will committo those places, buriedbeneath where we
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Build roads. Burn shelterfor desperate parasites.We attach withour eyes, vague uponlasting tracks.Bruised palms. Brokendoors, open to lightbetween cracks in a smile. Are we fulfilled?Filled up, witha mouthful of ashes. Are we instilled?Reminded, to believein all thingsless than grief. We have openedcovers, to close our scarsin referenced endings. We have lost moreupon winter,in its choosing. White
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Soft, sinking fidelity.Wait, until weopen gifts. Words area disease to devotion,are those bottleslost on an ocean. Thoughts to buildships, to never abandon,never skip overheartbeats, over foldsin bedsheets. For I willhold you behind curtains,when a storm crosses,keep you neededin bleeding burial. Move those riversthrough veins thatnever grow old.I have carved youout of naked ruins.Undress all that.Caress
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It can go on. Thatbitter, fettered taste.Meant to confuse. Notmade to let loosehonest conclusions.How backwardswill we ever think? Those faces wemake, out from heartswe take turnsto break. I let my eyesreach farther,than these hands.I see those skiesbecoming clouded,before bedsheets of rainwill fall. Emboldenedpuddles, a reflection of ourglances, withinuncovered dances. Suffer me, gentlyto a moon that
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Those burial of eyesdown intosickness and vapor.Watered down,handed down,with forever becominga brittle leaf beneathtwin stone feet. Let lessonsbecome songs,if you are able. Walking ahead,kneeling down tobreak apart those dead,without smilesto always dread. A summer’s surrenderto symptoms remembered.I have alwaysnurtured those dropsfrom your unshielded eyes.Pure to all palepaper, where notes of griefare sung to our belief.
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Bewilder me, uncoverme, weathered beneaththis storm of your entry. Shapes turn violetinside touch, outside us,from starving winds. Words carried forthtowards parched lips. Someone said to me,“Can love define everythingwhen Heaven’s thronefulfills hearts of nothingupon coatings of dust?” Hand your answer downto a child’s certitude.Those bedsheets are stifledin a winter’s air.Covered hands, buried lands,weeping while eons
Modern Romanticism 