Poetry
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Rush. Touch.With faint eyes,limp arms, nothing is everhalfway to being over.We have fallennext to each other,looking at our clouds,dark, but never raining. Barren stage. We are here,counting seconds, beforeanother beginning,another act to begin playingour scores, our shallow insightsinto a betterment,other than simple blights. Will we find somethingbeyond the clouds,beyond haze? A curtain is oftena third…
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I can believeHell has its own rainbow.A grim circumferencestretching over and abroad,like all the shadows we knewthat faded away. An arch above hallwayswithin our minds,painting those indescribable doorwaysa different color than a canvasthat captured no futurefor us to enter. I can believethat those moments were endless.Spent on wasted spacesto move in our shadows,ones that we…
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Those years we everdeplored each other,behind shadows, called doors.We wore sinner’s crowns,keeping shades downon those lights we pretendedwere signs of further hope.How often were we thinkingof wrapping our handsaround each other’s throats? A comforting connection,a deepening reflectionlifted with the waves. If we heal here, we willkill each other in these memories.We will murder our only…
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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…
Modern Romanticism 