Creative Writing
-
Hush our song of grieffor a time, while here we wearall our sicknesses, combined.Our clothes burning at our feet,our faces weeping for change, our armsembracing what’s not healing. However, we’ll rush,however, we’ll touch –using excuses without answering much,leaving our scars open to another morningentering in through a window,along with a bird’s gleam of eyeswatching us…
-
Who’s examining you,contemplating all those corners?Each more tragic than the next,each more fitting for what’s leftin your heart of souls –those you’ve siphoned of light,dividing black from white. Those who’ve kissed your hands,laid a teardrop on your palm, are those peoplemere razors for your veins?Are they who remind youof what’s being lost among streams? You’ll…
-
I have explored your fears,tasted tears that have kissed your neck,bruised, at strangulation from time’srepetitious epiphanies. What don’t you know?To be whom, you want to grow?Like a serpent, your coilsare wrapped around your eternallyfading heart, while I resisted letting goof what continued to snow. Keeping danger clear,letting your hopes crossover a rope, though it was…
-
I can keep you clear,though you refuse to stand nearwithout showers crashing downsurrounded at these scenes,among a lost, forbidden town. Take me to your grave,let me see your name carvedinto white. Let me see what differsamong snowflakes or thosecollected, brittle ashesthat you became,where you were renamed. I have enoughto keep losing – holding handswith your…
-
Regression. Repression,with waters, leaving an ocean uncoveredfrom eyes that left trails,painted blankfrom liquids we drank. Another scene smothered,another face coveredwith dust, for another, remembered. Withdrawn. Redrawnof a portrait captured in mind,a haunting of a similar kind. Another smile, vanishing close,another coffin nailedthrough hands that dropped,in knowing what stopped – another heart, buried in curtains,that soil,…
-
Fatal. Under that waterfall,eyes have fallen. Teardrops have keptpressured all that once creptup to knees, to plead, to grievein an act to receiveclosure at gated release. One more word. One wordunspoken, among those countlessthat were heard. Hearing allthat fell from poisoned lips,with all that burned freefrom once-frozen eyes. Chained to daywhere sleep exists outsideof those…
-
Name a price. Or reverse this theme,back to belonging inside armsthat have never held more than a glimpse,an image’s fade, an answer’s shade. Nothing comes back, besides those footstepshanging onto vanished tracks. No one hears a voice continuing to callfor those words left unsaid,because a heart had fled into midnightwith its faith too small. Ivory…
-
The area aroundto a chosen world, your home,visited on this occasionwhen your veins carry you out,leaving your memoriesburied in bitterness and red.Ever-changingto digress, disassociatedfrom fertile, uprising dread. You poke loose,budding anew, as light has enabled youto look up towards vacant skies. Are you blind to certain planets,those spheres from your yesteryear?A salience conjured out of…
-
Some subtle breezecrosses my cheek,fading a tear – dragged like a sailboatto its last destinationon a way to nowhere. One place of frozen flesh,quivers at a hint of warmth, while my eyes flashat viewing a dusty pathlined with petals,even on either side. I have felt your presencein glaring silhouettes, among lighthousesI held onto as hope,…
-
Puddles. Adjacent, skinless,though memorable. I felt a dropletclinging to a broken neck.I carved silence into these shadows,surrounding me on a dirt pathway.I wanted someone to scream with me,hoping with me that nothing is leftbesides these muddied reflections. In all, being lost, among desert sands,I can still weep that ocean that leftnames, traced in eternal puddles,in…
-
When eyes glow beneath surfaced rainbows.Hands clasped in prayer, two witnesses to fallen snow.When waters are here to stayclose, within eyes, imploring up to ceilings and skies,children are us, when we are stung from lossdown to those pyres named for sacrifice.When our worlds are close for thoseimprisoning moments life will stealraindrops we find hard to…
-
I often contemplate character among eyesthat entertain their perceptions, from syllablesof a handheld other, whose heart treatsan autumn session of falling colorlike those repeats of heartbeats, wide intheir years, leaving promises on handsin shapes of sadness, tears, a knowledge of being more encompassingthan all barren shadows, beneath leaves,this surrounding scene still tragic,yet hollow. These contemplations…
Modern Romanticism 