Creative Writing
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I’ve never knownwhen to remember less,supporting the existenceof a scentless garden,with needless resistance. When I seek a foot forward,I am moved. I am broughtback to those ways,among these cloudy days. I’ve never learnedwhen to accept a sunset,healing hurt with further hurt,hoping that pain will returnto fill an empty cup. When I place a glancetowards a…
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Handprint.Imprint mein your memory,though I’ll be restless,awakening every hourto keep you sour,to keep you knowingof those seeds you’re sowing. You are walkingacross a thin rope,hanging onto symmetryin its tainted mimicry. You are soakingyour eyes, in lakes,hoping to be shapedin discrete formations. Footprint.Walk aside,though I’ll be inside,waiting for you to fall,waiting for you to calla name,…
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These symptomsof a sickness where rustwill form upon skin,upon a graying texturewhere oldness becomes coldness,as eyes are decidingmore of an endingthan these unquenched lips. I remind myself,back to a timewhen light came aliveat first glance, at a momentwhen a spark had beenan instant to be revived,when delusion had beenthat sustenance to survive. I recall that…
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Tortured under rain,with your final word in.Under your breath,sheltered with these stains,blank in this ruinwhere faces are crossingfrom their forms, their historiesretraced from their passing. I am attached to those signson a road, soaked in aftermath.I have not bloomed in this ungraceful,expensive method to see me through,to see me at peace,among those who residein this…
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Open veins,a tissue to accompanya teardrop’s epiphany.Something is smearedupon these floors,as water comes near. I cannot convene,cannot conversein bleeding verse,as these woundsheal in reverse. I am backtrackingto where light had beguna moment, one that lastednear a rising sun.I remember all that enteredinto this skeletal frame.I added no color,being blinded as a newborn,darkened in sightunder love’s…
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I have for yousomething to believe in,though you’ve turned intosomeone I cannot redo.You’ve lost temper,becoming rusted, within.You’ve shown restraint,backing yourself against wallswhere portraits hold,while color is lost. We’ve been unfortified,lacking strength in these tides.We’ve been weaponizedin reusing old designs,because we’ve never developedbeyond a grim disguise. Selling ourselves to shame,wielding hearts for this placewhere memories turned…
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Pain does bring back that rain,though summer is always warm,while autumn sheds those leavesI should have uncoveredto see remaining green. Love had reused old memories,while life turns to ashessome sense of symmetry.What was I feeling during spring,when during those throes of winterthere’s no color left to bring? Shredded photographs,fog that conceals this townwhere I am…
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Hand over your caressto skin, wounded with history.You are standing in the rain,reusing ink in each droplet, while telling a storyin different sized puddles. What reflections are thereto shatter you betweenour split hemispheres? I am connected,while you are holdingonto nothing but wind.I am receivingyour repeated words,declining in your circles, being outlined,being traced. Can we rearrange…
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Should we even dance,sharing these same creases?Pages are reduced to numbers,in countless memories. We neglect an understandingfor what’s become overgrown,what’s been overdone,overused in endless reminder. We pause at a turn,seeing what’s over our shoulders,listening to invisible hearts,deafened in what they’re telling us,beneath this falling rain. Thunder lights a matchat a settling of unanswered prayers,noting what…
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You were wipingyour twin’s reflectionfrom your favorite mirror.I have been eclipsingthis heart, from a different,unfamiliar reflection, for I want what’s similarto keep staring back at me,in those wires,those tangles. Threads were all we had,baring our flesh,after being reducedto ashes and vulnerability. Wilted forms, with screamsto the burial of thornsinto uncovered flesh. I love to see…
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I am choosing betweenstepping stones, landing zones,hoping to fall somewhere,in between. As I am losing tothis heart that’s sunken beneath,you strive for that smile tosee me rise upon two feet. Love comes in different forms,it is said, though I am strugglingto refrain from rememberingwhen I kissed a pair of lipsthat bled me in circles. Life…
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Faces turn to frost,breaths turn to silver.I am burning for another stormto continue this sequence,to remember that same fragrancelost at the edges of fingers. Who had gone to rubble?What had yet to be built,trusted for its sturdiness? I have spread ashesto be carried like seeds,having nothing more to leave,no one more to bleed for. Who…
Modern Romanticism 