Love
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Bending echoes,brought out from a lingeringpuddle – one that ripples,in the senseless stormsI keep reaping. The winds,the dirges,the dismal howlsfrom a throat, that kisseshave long-since abandoned, but here, you remain. You speak, from that tainted shore,where letters, drawn overthickening lineswere left. With more timeto be, with whateversands have kept,in these bleeding palms, held onto likeprecious…
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Let yourself knowthat I’ve not dreamedwith an anchor being buriedin the mire, despite our veins having beenstopped of their flow. Despite our whims,we’ve made a home on the rockswhere ships were wounded,where hearts were lost. Some will followeach step of a bloodied stream,but we turn to the rust, letting kisses rot,when we must. We’ve imprinted…
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Distant scars,like loosened rainfall.Present memories,like these forever fields,running with those trickles, from a lost pairof extinguished eyes. I still yearn to keep youcaptured, in these arms –ones that have roamed,forever, to meet you, to greet youwhile you are findingother ways, to treat yourself. I am losingsight, of a little candleflame,though I wantto keep the present…
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Once, we werelike devils, plummetinginto the Hell of each other’s arms,swarmed with heat,like a desert where nothinghad ever quenched usin our even thirst. We could have come upto see the sun, to observewhere we could run,holding each other close, but we werewailing like infants,roped in, dying withinterminal in what we began,whenever it ended. We have…
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I trespasson your gardens,lingering here, observing emptinessfrom a vacant pairof eyes, encased in wonderment. To let you know. To let you flowfrom this barren settingto an aftermath,reunited with color,retelling your talearound fire. To hope, beyond all that,that you will break free, beyond all thatkeeps you occupiedin your searing mind,from those thathave settled you into memoriesthat…
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I know this danger.Loose, endless, and simplein its message,though reminding youof all that never wasin your palms,like fallen petals. I realize where the snow fallson each tress of your hair,brought back to set upyour eyes, to see the sunrise,but you’ll be looking back,soon enough,not soon enough. You’ll be drawing curtainsover illumination.You’ll be bringing yourself backto…
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While everyone watches,as others desert,we are fewestto see what remainsinside two pairs of broken hands,sifting through remainsof burned photographs. Living in each other’s breath,living for the momentwhen we will be buried alive,mistaken for further death, though we are eternalin the pain that keeps eyes open, aware of our truthwith our noose coming loose. I know…
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You’re there, laying onclouds made of your restless rest,thrashing in uncoverednightmarish hue, while letters are writtenas stains, in your heart. Another pitfall,another ruined night,running with the collective –driving yourself throughthe madding crowd, finding a torchto set your mind aflame, finding a churchto bring unholy tears. Who gets to knowwho you pray to,wanting for salvationin your…
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If hope can keep uspretending to be present,seeing nothing but gravitytaking leaves down,crumbling our walls –those that have been builton muddied, bloodied ground, I will, too, pretend to sleep,hearing our hearts when they weep. Coming down, inside our graves.Crawling around, like earthworms.Being naked, while fightingagainst infinite turns, as we thrash in this placewhere we have…
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She’s used to leavingrainfall, behind. Where there arefootprints, retained at whatkept anyone, going – she would solidifynothing, while everythingkept itself moving. She’s used to seeingdestruction, disease, andall that we never were,inside her. A heart that feels bliss,at the red behind a kiss, one that none of us received,while drawn open curtains exposedthose misunderstood remedies,those that…
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Keeping here,painted in smears,letting goof teardrops from a moonwhose face is that of a silver trace,whose presence waitsfor another night, seeing me, unanswered. Broken song.A wail from a throat,and in the reiterating of speech, I repeat what I thoughtwas never said, was never repeated, was never saidwhen we were never wed. It was said,a long…
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Another night in relivingthis squall. Forming tears,to hurl, overboard,as I am warmingmy wounds on the fireof what stings in your absence. A pencil has tracedyou, in the looming clouds,having grayed on your leaving.I have kept what wordswould receive you,would let you come blooming,but you would not, as I am here,forming tears from empty air. No…
Modern Romanticism 