#poet
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Here is she,The wall of my collapse,As the woeWields the heartache and throeOf my future’s promiseTo be the simple droplet upon a cheek,Swimming in fear. There is she,With fortune to call misfortune,For she remembers the inklings of yesterday.She says,“The shadows are kinder than any promiseThe given light could spark,For your radiance is a faint one.”…
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Rain keeps fallingIn her heart,Like melting snowReceiving the heatOf the fewest grains of Hell.SandCovers her ashes,While shadowsCover her light. I know she hurtsUnder where she blanketsA melting face,Of tears that bleed on for years,In the waking velvetOf sheetsThat lift, before her form. She lays, buried,Naked,For all the kisses I placeLike spells upon her lips,Upon her…
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My eyesSought rain,Upon the daysI couldHave my way.Down the roadsWhere the droplets fellTo heaviness,To the wearinessOf my battered heart. My mindSeeks solaceUpon the softest groundWhere your wings did liftLike an angel, spreadOver the fairest earth,As though sands sought elsewhereOther thanThe crimson over your eyes. Just a slender finger,I can weaveAround the night’s drops from oneVelvet,…
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When eyesChange galaxies,I shall treasure the marksUpon your buried lipsInside of your skull,Outside of the grounds,For there is a statue raisedMarked with all the watersI have come to dine on,With faces meeting faces,With shoulders finding graces. Love is the cruelest designWhere I find safetyOf you, to be mine,Under the Earth,Solid and confinedOf us,Disused and tormentedIn…
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Fire,Firing,Hurling stones against a mattress,Eclipsing us,Faltering our streamsWhere we move, to realizeOurselves, among the naked vowsDedicated,Before a withdrawn Judge.He, the love,He, the crueltyOf a simple sentence.Words so simple, yet much for distortionWhen the banks of these streamsCan mute them. My blood flows,NaturallyOver a country’s dismal currentTo surrender’s feeble edge,Of the flag, buried in mud,While tears…
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You are the turningOf a clock’s own broken hands,Matching where treatment has been madeUpon wounds so heavy.Your face, the music of my disgrace,For I cannot but leave these ambitions, behindTo make something of better signs. Treat your wounds,Dear sister of a better night,For my own shall find sadness, elsewhere,Other than for such grim misfortune.Leave your…
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I have alwaysIn my deepest of nights,Yearned for that whichCannot be burnedEnough.Of my heart,Where words are the sentencingTo another demise,Outside of the reachOf your extended eyesOf a gaze that fathom the milesAhead of myself. Straight to your eyes,Straight to the sunriseBlanketing the morningOf its gray, Autumn withering.I stream down your long armsTo a puddle, formed…
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Perhaps it could beUpon the time when you are slopedIn my long arms from the moon,That you will live,To raise yourselfAway from the rope,Away from the gloom. Perhaps when I kiss you,The scars in your heartWill become the stars that signalUs, to the start.Though, when I can hold youIs when I shall drown youIn the…
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Leaving seconds comfortableIn every fallen syllableOf a lie,Dancing in sweetest comfort,Making music of laughterBirthed by false mirth,As her hair glides to shoulder-top,While her fingers stain her lipsWith the red rougeOf a thousand misguided summers. For what she bleedsIs nothing outside,Marking where she may stepIs to measure the path where lava treads.Like heat is there for…
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DropletsRunning from the knife-wieldingMan, whose eyes are upon the dead glanceOf a thousand women, moreThan the fields where he buriedThose memories he adored. Cruelty stains the running mouthOnce of audible syllables, left uncouthTo the broken beautyWhose eyes may match the skies,Where Heaven subsides,As the daylight dies. She carried thorns, attached to a rope,Leaving a trail,…
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Hold your tempest closeAs the words come downTo your tiny, pink lips.I hold the sentence a foot from my heart,Swearing my love for youIn your dirt, where showers are guestedFor your forgotten face, to the world. My love owns gravity,Placing dreams where onceWas mere stars,Into realityAs life spawns from the absent womb,While strife leans free…
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“I cannot help but to love what I have found. A heart. Hers. It would remain isolated, without a branded kiss. I leech my own, through the vessels that remain upon my discovery. I am the sailor who throws himself overboard. I cannot love myself, not for a moment. I sacrifice myself, to see her…
Modern Romanticism 