Creative Writing
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Wash my deep hopesinto heavy rain. Your handfalls, with every weightupon my heart. I’ve lost that burden,those tears that were an ocean’s depthat that final reused breath. I heard it too many times,enough to carry my sailsforward, over too many stones, never noticing a lighthouseto serve me a serenityI could imagine is deserved. A won…
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Grave talk. Each sentence comes to a stop,though that last drop is caughtwith the rising well where a heartfloats like an adorned bandage,waits for no one’s thirst, for someone elseto find how worse came to be worse. You’ll give muted voice.Shouting with lungsshattered, from your desperate yearning. I have what you feel, trapped insidewhere we…
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I often contemplate the character of eyes,the diction between the syllables among amiable sortsbeginning love after a fall of leaves,when it isn’t spring nor is it a passionate summer. When gray skies mix in or matchthe ebony of darker hearts or bleaker moods,love does draw a bolder streakcaptured for the sickness it is sometimes namedand…
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Rebirth. Resoundall those scents risen froman arrogant ground,pledging an empire full of surprise,as roses turn the skiesinto a sunset aura. You cling, you bringall that color forward, to laya common prayer downon a plainer floor. Bedsheets spread. Mattress missing.Claw marks retain more to stainthan chalk marks,where you are traced. An aftermath, with one moredroplet of…
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To messages sent out, for mailboxesfrom hands that tremble underturbulent clouds, in these thunderous,embittered moments when wehad been clinging to each other’s throats,while hovering above each other’s vacancyin a carved-out spot among earth,tortured only with roses. Though I hold your body close,you are never deep withinwhile I am hearing your heartbeatstill too faint, still far…
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Without another way back, drifting onsurrendering clouds, you fall backin Heaven’s disguises – disguising hope,dragging you down from eternity’s rope. Where leaves are falling from your mouth,bandages loosening from your throat,I am kissing dreams back into nightmare,to leave you a familiar trail. Backtrack all those empires you fell,from those slaves who did buildwhat your eyes…
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Burn the taste of us awaydown your engulfed throat,while fate can be realigneda different waythan whatever we realizedwas the right wayto keep forever our day. While your terminal eyes are thereto keep me cold, to keep meforever old, let me hold hopelike a book set aflame,like a pair of curtainsclosed if only to blamethose it…
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To those stirrings looking across froma space between your vacant eyes, I see what you have done, as Icompare where you have come from,with losing sides becoming unified,before the entire arrangement is realized as a glance’s entryfrom two stories never closed,while you try to go, following fromwhere Heaven never knows. I burn your bandages, trace…
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Dream your world,awake. All those every-days,wishing a past sunwould reopen. I am hereto hold your beating heart,close your lipsin those shuddering breaths,bless you withanother who has comecrawling into your desertion. A world that left youchiming on some distant tree,passing your wordsinto fog. When you hear me,see us both hanging,if I cannot release you. If nothing…
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Bold nights. Centered frights.I wake to find youless than a note awayon a scale of burningsheet music. To shadows, that escapewith greater speedthan fading sunlight. You will be morphedwith all your sunset curves. You will be more distant,than when you dimmed. You will be blackenedat connections of heat,becoming furtherthan stagnant distance. Fires extinguishat a bottle…
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Broken sounds.Rediscovered signals.This path is guidedwithin each of your breaths. I draw lines,getting erasedat the last of your heartbeats,leaving me with a rhythmI cannot ignorewhen it is youI abhor. I was closeto a corpse who breathed,someone who hoarded fleshupon everyone’s death,everyone who sheever wept foras they bled upona naked floor. Those rhythms, sounds,broken like ground…
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I’ll hopebefore another riverI can kneel before,presenting a circle of gold,returned from an era that cold. This river flowsbeneath an immaculatecovering of white.Another place, to tracethis name of mine,for another chance for fame,within another heart in time. Down that path,I’ll go. I’ll no more wanderwith breath among snow.I’ll melt this scenery,if to see a distinguished…
Modern Romanticism 