Creative Writing
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Drowned beneath familiarcoverage, clouding theseundermining ambitions, while youhave seen me clogging a heartin distance. I leave thisdecayed rose, at your feet,while I bleedfor a futile eternity. Whose time, this time,is it, to turn over a leaf?I move, I climbto see another shape,hear another sound,to caretake another settlementof blossoms, as you might choose otherwise,among shadows that…
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Void. Bullet, and a tugof a teardrop that keepsthe stains, far away. I find that these reflectionsare transparent, too transparent,too seemlyto a promise too large, to folded pages, pausing smokedrifting across fogging mirrors. Pause what keeps me wanderingof an open mind, too littlein what remains as kind, for I have crippled a horsewhen it carried…
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It’s common to hear mespeaking, while undressingsadness from closing wounds.It’s common to see a turnaround,hoping for sunlight’s shadowsto begin drawing another chapterin ever-darker ink. A torch, dimly lit,with a heart held of each veinwith hands that have pulled aparttheir connection, without disconnectionat fertile memories, going whiteunder clouds where tearswill run out, and I keep finding…
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I hear more wordspleading from your eyes,than your open mouth.I find what squeezeswater, from a rusted heart.I handoff your sight,letting light take its course –letting relief find its comeback,though nothing holds, while hands fall downlike dust from a rotten coat. Cold, floating among grains,wandering like enslaved clouds,a heaviness at each foot, while cures retreat for…
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Splashing in our hearts,ceasing displays of fadedreflections. Who were they?Upon that mass of damages,who were those figurespointing fingers down a road,one we ignored? I come through,down a bleak hallway.I pass photographs,hung at metal necks,cold throats that receivedwarm kisseswith warmer breaths. Our misguided livesbecame watered-downremembrances, descending us into puddles,to sift through dark entrancesto hear heartbeatsin rapidity.…
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Don’t we allfind ourselves, tumbling back –taking back breaths we were notmeant to keep? Aren’t we allhaunted, of those spaceswe were meant to leave, abandonto their shadows? Of memoriesthat keep us blindedto places, ahead, I have cradles beneath cradles,as I have arms that resistwhen I comfort what has left, as a breath beneath my breaths.…
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Floating photographs,drifting on runaway waters.Faint, burning highlights.Agonized slope – a glance from your foreheadto those lips a kiss had found its home, while you found your shelter at a rope. At a loss for hope. At a loss,for words. At a loss for sentences,for a sentence to replace this stateof you. I am at a…
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Forward scenes, backwards displays,covering backgrounds in pledges,promises to revisit that sound existence. Revolving our bleak surroundingsto keep memories in their graves, as I never thought tohear where you were crying.I never gave much of a glanceto other underlying,undying factors. Being born this way. Being strangled in heartstrings,hearing flags being flownabove sobbing currents, drawn from someplacedeep,…
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This part of you, sublime,yet covered up in diminished light. One more kisswill reignite that familiar inferno,will release a spread of warmthto drench your lips, to quench that humming mind. In all gray humiditywithin displays that rewindour hearts, back to be held,where bodies were felled. Do not recall moments, before,to lose sight of a stagnant…
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Two parts of me. One part,of another feuding memoryleft blank on another’s slate.Another part of meleft in a translucent lake. As I bled upon this globe,reflections were cast backwards,as that other who helda burned out imagetold me to refuse. To refuse what put outthat sad, wicked fuse.This heart that breathed,abandoning flickering candleflames,adding another shadow’s danceto…
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I came, converging –this lampshade, turned at an angleaside from where light resounds,clarification rebounds.Were your words meaningless?Were our flavors as emptyas these reflections,caught in a sea of endless,fatal disassociation? I find fault in placesthat have something to exist for.There, I discover spaces,answering to fading traces. All tears fall close,in this timelineof devastation, as I come,…
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Dragged along on pavement,stitched together in dust.What loosens, other than all theserepeating phases, born to bloom, again,from fitful seeds? We never kissed, just as wenever grew this vacant empire.We found each other foraging scenes,bled into identical desertion.I want to keep crawlingup to you, and never keep myselfwondering about you. I no longer want tosee, with…
Modern Romanticism 