Love
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Rewinding where weleft off, on a pagewhere emptiness speaks heavily.Cut fingers, from edgesof a paper, written in haste,tells of no more to explorefor an illness, for a comfort. We were detailingour deception, in summary. Always meaning to retreatback to prior passages,realizing within fogthat love must have been showingsomething of color,other than black decorating white. Behind,…
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A note,lost to mild winds.A life that had venturedon a long-enough road,laying its seedsit deemed enough, for they were its tearsspeckling that notecarried on windsfor the middle-ground. Someone kept themselvesthat feathered witness –that bird from its perch –a crow with its insight,for someone elsemust be remembered. Someone else rose upfrom death, with bewildermentevident at their…
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Why weren’t we ever morethan our disbeliefs? Over everythingwe gave into, to abhor –we displayed our fleshfor the world to ignore.We reprimanded our blessings,drew knives like drawing our outlinearound where we fell. In love, hopelesslystanding in a river,red with a murdered connection.At our flesh, we laid breathslike hanging pictureson a solid color. Kisses were deep.Feelings…
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Carrying a torchfor a bed, to burnthose photographs, imprintedon scented bedsheets –of foulness, of flavorthat drenches this air,this naked atmosphere. Her salience. Her importanceto be high among nests and clouds.A queen, of damning privilege,having knowledge over noneupon this bloodied field,where flesh remainsa soldier’s shield. A ghost, into midnight,she goes. A wandering driftwith countless ashes to…
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A state of none.Senselessness, of onepair of longing winters,who are taking turnshanding over frozen teardropscollected like grains of sand,collected like stars,as a wish for summer. A place to shun,of one pair of wicked loverswho’ve hung portraitswith brokenness, at glass surfaces –remnants of puddles,where faces were gluedfor spontaneous glee. They’ve hidden their ruinswithin helpless clouds,fleeing their…
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I am torn on reminders,fueled for this sudden ridepast a station, where you leftyour baggage, your burdenfor me to collect. That mirror, I see allwhere sadness holds handswith a messenger’s light.You are exploringyour path, on that swathwhere plains will find flamefor your expression, while I’ve depleted myselfinto countless grains. What’s left to burn?What’s left to…
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Find a wayfar awayfrom those mountains,where ice let you slip,where avalanchesreminded you of pain. Find another path,see another startin the sunlight.Drift from moonlight,wander downto those docks, seeing a ship float in,welcoming a feelingcoming in, seating it inyour favorite spot. Let love run throughhollow veins, riding on a horsewith summer at its reins. Let tears come…
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Help; I’ve tried to hide.I’ve cried, holding togetherthese hours – all my yearssown together,engraved forever. I am a tragic speckbeneath sand,leaving wishes for skies,leaving words for oceans.Help; I’ve often said,towards immaculate cloudsthat demons can hide. Will feelings returnacross watery veins,along identical lanes?I am, in the moment,another whisper for someoneto never hear, though you kept on,with…
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One lost light.One, believable, in beingdivine, in being.A fatal moment, here in thisgarden of deep regrowth,careless overgrowth.It stretches everywhere,lets me breath warm aironce lungs swallowed tears. Smooth ribbons. Widest giftsin decorations, in flame.Shadows are cast,swelling seconds will last,as tired heads become settledin repeated relief. I am craving another markon this flesh of your flesh.I am…
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Train station.Wait with the onewho fell in lovewith another’s light,someone else’s path.They were lost,They were leftto rust under rain,running on tracksat what they’ve watched. A witness.A clearance,to be taken into that one car,with a dim candleflame.A ghost has been waitingwith silver to its form –a bottomless aperture. It wonders at who entered.It knows to acknowledgea…
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I’ve answered prayersfor myself,in binding myself in ruin,while blinding myself with dust –a rainfall of your departure. What to salvage?Where can I find you,among those heaps?Written paragraphs are heavyin what they hold.Eyes tell more,more in what we notedof each other,in smaller examinations. To fingers that trembled,we held togethereverything that mattered morethan a singular impression.What’s more,in…
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While being trappedin this basement of allyour foundational fixation,I am wondering – to those stars,“what had been your focus?”Your clutter, of memoriesas fossils, made ofportraits and uncovered coffins, as I wonder,“what had been your entertainment?” Who had your smilego gray? Who caused youto come down, with the snow? I am another oneto recede, with all…
Modern Romanticism 