Writing
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Bereaving the north,though I must, without muchleft to see to its details,see to someone who deniesthe world with its light.Into shallows, into shadows,beguiling the one whoerupts a desperate callfrom her burning throat.She repeats, she’s in defeat,while I fill the holes I seewith fixated eyes,with assertive gravity.Going forward, with a torchpressed of its handle,to create a…
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Be the one to leave,knowing when to leaveyour uncovered thoughtsat Heaven’s gate,while you exit Hellor the one placeyou couldn’t tellwas either morbid blackor a vacant white.As I held your heartdear to me, close to me,all you found outwas that there was no onein the world like me.What’s real is whatterrified you to want tosee me…
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Short leash, held ontoyour state of departurefrom the truth of you.I’ve been viewingyour limitless grains,on an extended shorewhere depth is worthmore than everto explore.You’ve been fleeingdeadly comparisons,depriving yourselfof what it takesto truly break.To become onewho is beautiful,there must be pagesturned into becomingburied history.To be someonewhose future is believed,requires you to grieveover what’s present,as a gift…
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Style doesn’t count,while you’ve wormedyour comfortable wayinto elevating excuses.I’m dragged backinto believing you.Recreate my storm,having let this go oninto infinite suds.I’ve been diggingto find the woundthat’s on the surface.You were never morethan an inch deep,building a worldonly under the wavesof finite tears.Comparable to death,this love has let mechoose my last breath.Because you’ll continueyour haunt, beyond…
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Entering back into truce,while firmly able toexplicitly deduceyour coming commandto see me surrendering,while I’ll be desertingthe final remainingtears for tear stains.I’ve been meltingto be back here,to be there with you.But you are receivingthis desperationwith more to breakinto two partsfrom one heart.You’ve saved nothingexcept for your anticipationto collect fragmentsof one who is subscribing,after years of bellowingthe…
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What is there to yearn after,singing songs to unite weatherinto a grave incursion?Weeping for nothing leftover,when no one is theredying upon the rocks.We are just holding out hopethat our tears will continueto fill up gaps,to repeat those storiesoverfilled with pages.What is there to reminisce on,fueling this channelingof sudden, ongoingsadness and bitterness?What is there left to…
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Upon the folds, creases,the unkempt sights of onewho hasn’t had enoughto keep drinking.For what he’s thinking,he’ll be paralyzed by,for a good part of eternity.But you stand there,humming your words,singing througha recollected heart.Your veins aren’t hollow,your heartbeat is regular.You aren’t as shallow,even when standingin those puddles,keeping your reflectionnever shattered.I’ve been fillingthese cups, to their brimwith regret,…
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Split apart. Having arewritten life, while I’mremembering when wewere both once like infants,crying while talkingwhat no one elsewould bother hearing.Now you are faint.You are just a soundlessthing to be withdrawnfrom, from a spacewe once shared.For you cannot cry.You cannot even seewhat I’ve let looseupon the wind.You have refrainedfrom ever beingthe other draft,the parts, the pages…
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It’s been a storm,identical to all things dark,and hazy. It is received withone’s attitude of stubbornnessto see it unlawfully remain.Inside one’s heart,there’s a bomb, its fuseis already lit. But thisone, confined persontreats it as firelight,as warmth for their hands,those that are sicklyand pale.A welcomed installationof a furnace, fueled bythe oil of one’s face,the perspirationthat is…
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It’s been time to decidewhen this heart will unwind,where tears will flowto bring close what can’treturn to aching arms.Will this graveyard gardenbe as colorful as your face,once smiling, once hopingfor the end to never be?I’m no longer closing outeverything I’ve shut in,as it can no longer weighupon me, from within.I can no longer affordto be…
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I have heard what youhave cried out, under sucha constant stream,with downpour fillingyour cupped hands.You can’t float, when therewas never anything aboveto resurface to,for you’ve always wanted tobe reminded of what’s downin the direction to drown.Love’s face can get youto retrace your form,building up your fleshto erase what’s dead.Life’s grace can let youwish for more…
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She’s been redrawninto her familiar shape,wings no longerdisheveled and weathered,while two black eyesare ignited with sunlight.She’s perched uponsomeone’s shoulder,someone who we knownever needed to prayfor her to enterthis inevitable way.She’s singing from onegleaming beak, notes froma pair of unclogged lungs,once suppressed,now here revealingall meaning undressed.She’ll never ail,because she’ll only sailon wings of ivory,speckled in gold.She’ll…
Modern Romanticism 