Tag: Romance

Two tales,
one defeat
at the silence
of one careless heartbeat.
Twistedness, and draining
into discoloration. Our fever
soared for temperatures,
uneven. We let
our shade get faltered,
becoming halfway
with light and dark.

Two eyes, sightless,
needing their contacts
of other angels,
of those who are
branding footsteps –
the ones we
kept hearing
to keep calling
our namesake,
our sanctity.

Being footsteps, of the
hundred miles when we
were wandering, living for
another decorated instance.
Becoming footprints,
that have returned
into memorable minutes,
hours, and leftovers
of rotting years.

Precious rose, I can
keep forcing blood-flow.
Or I can cease
the next urge, to release
our hearts into the sunrise,
choosing to not set,
nor settle our forms
into the same nest
of venomous thorns.

I am here,
lost without, by living without
the familiar burn.
Coldness isolates me,
wandering into these years
without. With the feeling
I keep remembering,
I am wrapped in curtains,
wielding stones
upon my naked throat.

What do I revive?
Where do I survive,
when this heart cannot be excused
for being alive? No one hears me
shout, when I am
existing without,

being held in a shell,
like a coffin for the ocean,
for a blinding hell.

Attempting to sleep,
choosing to weep
when closed eyes
are coming around,
leaving me with a dream
where all I do is scream.

At the moment
when we lifted, I felt,
I knelt in what we spilt,
after our eyes were filled
in the remains
of melted snow.

Just a touch
to burn away
what would have
turned into decay.
Now, just an inch away
I can hold onto
a heartbeat
I will not let go astray.

Running into each other’s
closing arms. Hearing
our breaths from a mouth
that will speak, forever,
of what we cannot ever sever.

I cannot, in this knot
lose hold of what I brought,
inside this gaping heart.
Once, I thought
that life was meant
to keep writhing in dissent,
to keep attached to
moments going in reverse,
but we are
countless as the stars,

limitless with the sparks
that are falling from our eyes,
matching the place
of joyous tears, of famous cries.

What time
did we see numbers,
failing us?
It was that infinite
horde of gleaming stars
we aimed to count,
but felt the sky coming down
to create the floods at our feet.

Through the deep
of limited tunnels,
we explored where we
were vast, holding ourselves
together, while dust
falling from our shoulders
kept rewinding us.

Kisses blocked the sun,
darkened our scenes,
for moments when we
found it necessary
to come undone,

but not to the time,
when our hands would be
pointed towards sunrise
and sunset,

a before and an after,
a time for hope, and a time
for when water will race
through a tunnel we can’t trace.

I lifted you
from gray highways,
sealing you in a chest
where gold was
bringing you to rest
in love’s comfortable gravity,

and I never heard you say
anything about
another timeless necessity.

I want to rewind you, to give you
the railroad crossings.
I want you to see where I am lost,
where I am being drained,
losing tears, becoming the sands
in the hourglass, beyond the hourglass
figure that I cannot embrace.

Held close, consigned,
informed of what we might lose,
ashamed of what we might close
when our hearts are loosened,
after knotted
into that flaming noose.

Designed, to run free
when we were told to see
the things we brought up,
signing our name
on each other’s soul,
and igniting letters
that spoke
of nothing ever wrote.

We were bound to break,
but knowing this,
we were still caught
in tremors, in earthquakes,
loving until stars
were showering our cheeks
in their lasting alignment.

To tears, vast in puddles
at our sinking feet,
with one more kiss before we send off
that strangeness in each other’s eyes.

With one last discoloration,
we are coming apart,
clothed in our dispassionate
states, losing enough to remind us
of what we could not keep
as we eternally weep.

Identical stains on what
we have contained, we have worn
like burn marks that reveal
twin ordeals. We have been breaking
this bread, our flesh,
listening to heartbeats in the morning,
when the sun comes around –
around the corner,
to see us, the mutual mourners.

There’s enough here, enough near
to be here – living in discomfort,
as it’s enough to know
the number of tracks
were imprinted in the snow,
telling us what we need to grow
when springtime comes,

comes around the next corner,
finding us, winding us
on time in reminding us
that we cannot grieve forever.

We will – in willing our eyes
come to see, beyond what we see,
in the dark.

In the cold, we have been
connected. Under soil for those
who are dead,

we have been breaking bread,
seeking gratitude,

but the warmth never returned
from scarred palms.

From Heaven’s open gates,
there’s an overdue embrace
to go beyond the space
we’ve reentered,

to say was always enough
to relive yesterday.

Highlighted liquid.
Seeing far, closing near
to where these arms had held
what will eventually slip,

but I amuse myself
in deepest recollection.

I remind myself of this,
undressing my eyes in the moonlight.
I realize, whenever there’s a chance,
to see when I contained you
in this grip, before you slipped,

while we cried,
as hundreds of flakes of snow
melted with our breath –
warm, in the bitter air.

No one had known
just how together we were sown.
Blissful, as adorned gifts,
drinking flavors from our eyes,
looking up to gleaming skies.

I would not have known
that you were losing this way.
I would not have grown
this much, in our velvet touch,
present in belonging here,

before the sending of tears
with a different taste.

Bending echoes,
brought out from a lingering
puddle – one that ripples,
in the senseless storms
I keep reaping.

The winds,
the dirges,
the dismal howls
from a throat, that kisses
have long-since abandoned,

but here, you remain.

You speak, from that tainted shore,
where letters, drawn over
thickening lines
were left.

With more time
to be, with whatever
sands have kept,
in these bleeding palms,

held onto like
precious isolation we gave into,
or disposed like
warnings we chose to ignore,
under reddened skies
where wings forever soar.

We began holding oceans
in our eyes, with their
infinite years.

We gated, we sealed
memories in secret cages,
locked like familiar scenes
to hold onto,
from afar.

Let yourself know
that I’ve not dreamed
with an anchor being buried
in the mire,

despite our veins having been
stopped of their flow.

Despite our whims,
we’ve made a home on the rocks
where ships were wounded,
where hearts were lost.

Some will follow
each step of a bloodied stream,
but we turn to the rust,

letting kisses rot,
when we must.

We’ve imprinted our stops,
hearing heartbeats flood
eternal emotions across,
towards spaces
we will not go.

We’ve taken notice
of an observant moon,
bright to its gleam –
as it glances
to our surrounding bloom.

We’ve been overlooking
a time to surrender, to streams,
to a familiar rush,
whenever to be back-to-back
in dirtying wars, inside the tides.

When we’ve crashed,
we’ve faltered, in our ways.
We’ve lasted,
if meaning to present ourselves
as smoke, from fire,
as words, withdrawn like tears,

caught in our lungs,
hung from our eyes.

We lack the control
in letting anything go,
to risk us, for a freedom
with memories,
in tow.