Poem – “Your Eyes for this Occasion” – Romance – 12/5/2019

Upon blue irises,
Folded over with lids like bird feathers,
A glass of red within reach of a porcelain hand,
I stare.

Beauty has welcomed itself, upon this occasion,
Your grace, and your face,
Two eyes like twin moons upon my own,
Shifting away in incredible shyness.

Lovely, you are,
Upon this evening of evenings.
And highlighted you are,
Near to a candle that stains you yellow.

A little form, and a face of snow,
And the two eyes that look back
To see where I attempt to seduce
You, into submission.

A beautiful woman
With a folded shape.
A lovely bird,
With wings that stretch out.
I will kiss, and kiss, again,
Those eyes of yours,
Little beauty.

We have become something special.

Poem – “Ingratitude” – Romance – 12/5/2019

The world around me
Shifts into an illusion,
When she stares at me with blank eyes,
And speaks
With an ever-more blank voice.
She has been the ungrateful one,
For each of my worlds,
Love and survival.

To make her live,
Was to allow her to die in my heart.

A pain,
And a tragedy.
One world,
Devoted to eternity.
It was a climb, to the finish-line,
A fate had waited in store, for us,
Yet, it was only her, who saw it fit to empty both of us
Upon the porcelain walls, as blood and vomit.
The girl in her, the woman that surrounds
These ivory textures,
The mark of innocence, the loss of virginity.
All of her body’s fluids coat the outward
Of this palace adorned in thorns.

I’d still take the blame,
Were I to never hear her laughter.

Poem – “All My Fighting…” – Romance – 12/4/2019

The worst has passed
With the snow to a bleak yesterday.
And I see her tresses rain from a frail head,

To that path behind me,
To a path, where I see,
All my cruelest enemies,
Little voices of laughter, from spiteful children,
People who beg, and people who spit,

People who destroy what worlds they ever had.

Why would they want this?

Why would they want a Hellish torment, called love?

The child in me, begins to beg.
And towards the future, I move to another pair of arms,
A woman, with me, is all there is to now see.

Poem – “When I cannot Love” – Romance – 12/4/2019

When I cannot love,
When I cannot drown
In the arms of a one,
Who took me above
To see what could not be undone.

A woman,
A face,
Of splendor and beauty,
Each small bit of fervency,

Each frail part of tragedy,
Is hers for the closing
Of my heart.
One streaming face,
One anguished expression,
Laced with the marks of a pair of hands,
That had ripped open your mouth,
To hear your words.
Were they ever true?
Have you moved quicker than I?

A face with a mouth,
Two parted pinkish lips, and lowered eyelids,

And a tongue that seems to speak,
Words I cannot make out,
Words I’ve come to ignore,

Words I’ve come to despise.
A face, that is laced with my marks,
My hands,
My burning stare.

My form is one of disaster,
While yours still stands beautiful.

Poem – “Your Little Desperation” – Romance – 12/4/2019

With one wicked remark
By your feathered tongue,
A lightness in your voice,
To soothe me,
Down into unwarranted pain.
And the sting comes upon my arms,
And my legs,
And my neck,
Is enough to be drunk.

I would call this pleasure,
Were the levels not so different,
Between yourself and me.
And were our faces not so different,
Of your own and my own.
I am sickened,
By your taste,
By your voice,
Of it all, each thing you say is fear.

Your little desperation,
To say I should return,
For a pathetic friendship,
Will grieve me,
Grieve me,
And grieve me, ever-more.
I beg you to lie there,
And see what I’ve felt,
As I offer lash after bloody lash.

Poem – “The Bird without Wings” – Romance – 12/2/2019

Upon thy broken and velvet back,
There is a tiny frailness,
A little bird without wings,
It sits, while I sit, and I paint,
To see what I’ve always envisioned,

A woman with eyes like onyx stones
Within a lake of sapphire,
And a face of pure porcelain,
Dotted with freckles like leaves in another lake
Of immaculate white milk.

But, the bird atop your back,
Has no wings.

It attempts to flap mere stubs,
And cannot fly.
What freedom does it possess?
Is it your pet?
Is it your child?

The poor frailty
Of that little bird,
Causes my tears to be my paint.

I drain blue to the canvas,
And turn what is painted to be a white back,
To a blue one.

And to yourself, I reach my head,
When I lean forward after I’ve raised
Myself, from this horrid chair.

And I lay a kiss,
Upon not you,
But that bird.
Your face appears startled, a vision of fear,
A vision of confusion,

Love is in my eyes,
Not for the one I’ve painted,
But the one I’ve pained for,
My love, my beauty with eyes of green,

Who do I love? Who have I seen?

We have been lovers a long while,
But, that bird! That bird!

Poem – “A Dying Need” – Romance – 11/29/2019

Come closer,
Frail one, to my door,
Where you’ve heard these screams before.
Where my limbs had once crashed
To the floor,
And had then risen
To meet your throat,
With a solid grip to drain life away.

Pain and shame is now an empire,
Among all the redness to your lips.
You’ve tasted blood,
Have you not?
Your dream for loneliness
Has become a sheer reality.

Love should be a nest of caresses,
And yet,
All I see is ash falling from your tresses.

Your face is a light of resplendence,
With each hue always new,
And each lash above your eyes,
When it falls,
Shows all the blackness I’ve always tasted.

You will come to where I have died,
To where all words of love,
Were merely words to make us cry.

Pain is now our highness,
With isolated thorns upon your crown,
And the disease that drenches your hands,

Is merely the blood from my heart.