Creative Writing
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I keep grieving on that last word, hoping that meteors will reverse themselves. Or that an eclipse will bring back its former light. Or that a tidal wave would not have crashed to topple a tower – that tower, the one where we were unified. Being held upright, because there was a desire to be…
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Feeling faint, drifting saint,passing a word through your mouth,letting it leak out, running with the highwaysfrom your eyes, with your tears,with smoke from your past,where brakes never existedin sending you across,in letting you stop. But I’ll come downto your knees, on my knees,soaking you in sunlight,dreaming with your delicate mindof what can come at night,…
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I’ll stay hereto cross paths, to merge shadows,comfortable in what we carvedon sidewalks, heavy witha rush, from fallen rain,soaked in our stories,painted with feetdancing to unending trails. Though, I weep, wantingwhat keeps these shouldersburied down. And are youhearing those footfallson pavement, lost and crippled?I pull loose these tearslike bullets from dead flesh, and are you…
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I re-envisioned someone in a different state. A new world. Another pathway. She drew herself back into collapse, as all things, all memories would fade in her shadow. I drew her in, I carried her home. Many times, I brought her into open arms. Would they close? Would they ever truly close? I embraced an…
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It was a display. A sight. A sight that had nothing for me to see, for that’s what it was. An absence. Neglect. What did she neglect? All of me, from all of her. A part of her had been torn open wide, by love, than for what love did upon me. I felt its…
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Stilled, underone of her stars.This one, by instinct,I follow, buried beneatha puddle of gloom, blanketed in this transparencythat everything had keptits secret certainty. I’ll force, to forgea way forward, though notwhile mirrors are decoratingthese hallways. A mind –a ceiling that connectsall things left behind, connected at pebbles,dissolved into stars. One more, another breathto keep me…
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For how farwill these passions ever stir?Fatal comparisons.Endearing journeysdriven west, brought forwardto serenity’s test, as we fall forwardinto arms that sink,into compassion, underneathpassion, brought lowwith our falling hearts,like all raindropsturned from fire,into relief. To surfaced reconnections,with shells about us,we lived without heartbeats,with smoke that came fromabandoned embers. No one hearsa sound, we used to make,drifting…
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Who knows that brightness?Alike, miserable, and alike,with brittleness to each of herfeathers of wings, tresses that bringhighlights to wounded words, and am I finding answersin these scars? Am I erasing anythingwhen all I have found,could ever find – is her barrenness? A field,an exploration of these feet,over her flesh,wandering to find,to remind a mindof a…
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Upwards intocrimson timelines,blanketing all momentsin a space, a crude, delicatesurface of white, of flesh that mimics death,surrounding eyesthat close for blooming skies. Tresses, laid againsta pair of lips. She sighsto pages being flipped,while inside her smileare those bared glimpsesof one more solid anchor, one more stain of heavinesscontained inside pebbles,black as shrunken,ingenuine hearts. One more…
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Enactment. Discourage mefrom accusing you. You are ashore,waving your rotting hands,decaying before waves, of sunlight you sent away. Another eternityto match reflectionwith a suddenness,a truth just discovered, emboldened, enlightenedat what you sent acrosson sinking ships. Who are weto keep feeling this way?A cross, hammered with nails.A droplet of blooddiluted into salt, of oceans,with breath overeverything…
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Slowing vows, fading eyesthat are debriefed for what’s uncovered,no longer left in disguise,no longer left to shadows that retreat,weeping for their creation,their light, their position uponabandoned trails. To eyes, leaving tearsas pebbles on littered highways, over to boulders, clogged heartsthat await their appearance, filtering to be craters,an absence of their placediscovered under lens. Lens. Pinnacles…
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Fallen place, darkened spaceinside those harrowing sounds,echoing from brushstrokesin memories, where you collecteddiscarded fragments, from burned photographs. Were you cryingwhen this world had beencheering for a smile,a face you had brought uponvacant shoulders? I am bending to your will,to see you, to want youto come up, like a sunrise, that onlybowed, for an audience,one that…
Modern Romanticism 