Love
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Wild change, summer’s pleato bring me aside,to space me apart from whenyou went by. You were those windsinvisible between fingers,arranged among a loose graspwith remembrance to what you woreupon nights of passion,heated to adore. Those sounds in the lush rush,rapid in all those footsteps,yet you hushed melike a child with a believed fable,among a heart…
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Let me loose. Whatever spillsshould be as dark as this chosen midnight,over a page as white as emptied clouds,turning fair, equal,at daylight’s stream. I run, though I have walked.I have attempted to talkwithout words passing throughthose ears that never absorbedmeaning for what remainedto trail, behind themlike chains, like stains along that path,paved with blinded, black…
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Deep seas, closing wounds.Endless paragraphs for morepages to this uncertainty.A time to hurt. A time to disconcert.Another time for flowers to closebefore petals can rush downstream,dropped from a mother’s arms. I can hold hope open like a book,with its mere cover as a shield,emptied of details from within.I can burn no pages,choosing to conceal tearswith…
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Each teardrop on a salted road,counted, as if to ice it will become.To an ocean – they were meant to be swallowed,among all pain that could not have beenthis weak, that hollow. Stains upon these hands,grafted, where all that had been heldhas been released onto endless lands. We are explored, you and I,to all brinks…
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Wait, on your plastic road – roses are grown,temporary to being that concern for ephemeralunity. In your wanting death,wait under your labored breath,facing clouds, none too emptyto call a solid home. Face what soars, if foranother moment to envision birdswhile your wings are crippled into dust.I will not leave, in buildinga ring of eternal flame,circling…
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Mortal wounds. Wideness, among arms,folding around good things grown,finding a heart clashing against blank walls,an echo as universal wake-up calls, and toss this temperamentsomewhere, where this worldcan keep emptying. Bringing up, growing upfossilized stab wounds into chestsburied in mortality’s game,love’s last name. I am cheating on another grainin a lovelorn ocean. I am handingice for…
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I swear you had – at those spaces, you hadfelled tears at smaller rainfalls, lessened storms,remembered where to walkyour limping gait, to that final stopwhere you were meant to waitfor another smile to bring you clear skies,for another pair of eyesto send you apart from bitterness. I swear it, that when you were less tragic,you’d…
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Falling snow.A feeling from letting goof that hand that drifted,beyond waters, a shallownessamong that mist, given a wallto conceal her call. What else can she,among her eternity,ever desire to know?Life has heldonto her dresses,staying there like leeches,while she coughs out snowflakes,a sign of surrendering scenes. Leaves are matchingwith all white against her temples,flurried there, clashed…
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Broken – letters smeared,weeping with what we endeared,expecting to keep removingimperfections from those lessonsthat we didn’t offer our eyes,while we settled on lies. Leaving ruins, returningto a home covered in dust,letting rust connect –color of blood, reusing that flood,teardrops of all shades,entertaining our way. Our haste to keep rememberingall reused lettering in abstractdescriptions, fading meaning…
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Watching those places – desert themselves,while watching these spacesfind themselves lasting us, between fogged eyes,holding onto open sceneries and skies,hearing what little we make of everythingbecome, again. One more yearnful caressbeyond a noose, far from all thatfades among that hourglass,because in our vision, we might lastif we are rebirthed from mirrors,not smoke of ruins. We…
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Caught in all thatrecurring blue, dropping aboveat repeated droplets of dew.At here, are youfading with everything left,burning inside our driftwhere our hands soar downto sift, to lifttears that never fellthis closely? I’ll fall if it means tobreak you, loose, while wearingthese discarded objectswe remembered, belonged to you.For you, treasuringwhat you are rememberinginside these emptied rooms,where…
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Someone’s open palmforgot to prayfor a forgiveness, sudden,for two souls that are driftingin a universe that cannot immerseitself, in that someone’s kindness.Receding to random stars – caught in our blindness. Continue to forget us,those who are not like uswho need to keep believingsomeone will find us standing still.To find us, like statuesbefore we become dust,like…
Modern Romanticism 