Writers
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Fall Through broken arms Reaching the blood My eyes had carried. In your hair, The strands weave me to your fortune, As I surprise myself To the emptiness of all. Your face, A stream of petals. My arms Drop the leaves, shed from distance. Are you the spring to take me Apart from what I…
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I want to love Without facilitation. I want to suffer In your dedication. My eyes have seen the waters, Same as our land. My hands have felt the wet pages, Same as those documents Of our histories. Your eyes, A closed center. My eyes, An open universe. We spiral In a spun form Where dwells…
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I: “The Man of Realization” He collects his tears, Captures his fears In the mirror where shows his trembling Unable to cease Of the crease To his complexion, In the design To his kind. He could not love What is not to him Belonging above In the wilderness Called paradise. What a love He denies…
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For as you bleed Asymmetry To the fragile moon’s face, I wish to trace What tears you have shorn From a flesh that has been bled and born Within the womb of love. I dream of you, Dear one, In my nights of no sleep, As I imagine the day with stars. You are in…
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Echo about Your frolicking self. The rain is but a flicker To the decay of warmth. I want to hold A form that wilts, no more, When the tears come as razors To the skin that has bled only coldness. Your frozen silence, Leaks memorabilia. Of earing and necklace Latched to flesh, Discarded from youth.…
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Lace yourself Around the hollow throat That leaks only whispers, For I engage in the merriment Of a thousand more speeches On what it means To see. You have found yourself Laying there Between birch and bramble, Of anything that can burn. Ropes tie your legs While your arms are chained above Your head, in…
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Bless yourself,Woman of the deepOf me.Your face has raindropsSuitable for consumption.Your aroma is taxingTo my strength.I falter,I weakenBefore your might. There is seduction in every wordThat leaks freeFrom your parted mouth.I eclipse nothing of joyFor your moment in the sun.I blot out the smearsBefore they set. You no longer need to weepWhen love is there…
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The state, The waiting game Of your eyes upon the lane, Where our roads will cross, Where our fields shall know loss. As I see thee, I want to say That nothing in the world matters. Your beauty Is an image of my defeat. My arms are long As they hang. My tears wet roses…
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Let come the rain. Our fields are thirsty For the stains of splashed Earth. Our dreams remained with The sudden parting upon the forty-fifth Angle to the unknowns.
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She was laced In the straw found from fields, Revealing sculptures I can surely bleed. From between ivory towers Where greed Runs up to flee In any amount I can see Of the source to her craving, While my ideals are stepped on by heels. I count the waves, Numbered in the knowing Of what…
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She holds curtains Before her trailing eyes, Then asks the world, “Where were all those loathsome goodbyes That never came, before the end?” Trails come as journeys To tears, never-ending. For her, life threw turns to her, Sobbing beneath the blackest veil Thrown over trembling shoulders. Her neck is a bath For the bucket, the…
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To love is the biggest risk for any human. It involves more risk than what it takes to be respected, or to be feared. If such is the case, then why do romance novels depict a relationship like perfection? It is not believable, to say the very least. What happened to tragedies? What happened to…
Modern Romanticism 