Writing
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Holding a cup, Wielding my own tears in a basket, I drunk from The solid silver To spill the same color Upon the radiant soil. It had rained from somewhere else, As sprouts grew from someplace else. I felt the rocking, The quaking Beneath my soles, Wanting my eyes to leak The same stains To…
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No more long speeches, No more long breaks In the forest, where we take Turns to reach for the clouds Gathered, Then parted From the circles, they formed. No more time to talk, No more time to walk On in the same direction. We are so much like the ash that rains Upon our hands,…
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Looking back To my other end Of the lake, that shares Twisted, Broken branches. Her eyes leave marks, Her form Casts the storm. She bleeds all over me Grief, and pity. Her life Forged, through strife. Curves that taint the Earth, Growing weeds, Brambles, Among thickets, Thorns, Never the sweetness I’d expect. Her touch burns…
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You enveloped me, Roped me into years of bleeding, Gave me nice words To the next degree Of splendid heat. I felt your churning Down in Earth’s bowels. Can you hold onto the kindness, Or would you Rather withdraw to the blindness? The darkness suits you more, More than the notes upon doors, More than…
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You are the lighthouse Amid my storm, The guide, While my sails are worn. I am cracked by my hull, As you never let me sink Into my own debris, In my own tears, By my own fears. You are merciful, As I’ve been fanciful In seeing my pain wither away, In desiring my arms…
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I fall with you Down to the embers With the morning dew. I stay with you In hearts so filled with contrast To light, To bright tears On the waking mind In the dismal shine. We bleed, so much alike. Like new droplets Upon the petals During a storm That leaves its mark, upon the…
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Twilight is our embrace, Shedding tears Without waste. My face greets the morning sun Upon hollow earth, Dreaming For new stars that crater the ground, Making dust, Forging rust, Bleeding violet from roses That hold only red. I hold the daffodil close, Like I hold the primrose in my mouth, As I fold the orchids…
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She is that, within herself and behind her tears. She holds the moon for her solace, with the sun for her shame. A life so wrenched, with idle strands before her forehead. She beads the tension to the surface of porcelain skin. A woman, who so wants to be held, without slipping free. A little…
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I curl around A form, that steps around The rocks, that shelter Her beginning to be hidden. Love leaves soft trails On the path so unspoken Beneath her sighing lips. I want to say That the world was without you, Though, you came Without pain. Could you kiss? Could you melt Like candles that have…
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Without me, in arms, I bleed only reflection. The memory of a forsaken vow To the embodiment of now. The world has deceit Rising in reverse Angles, made to mangle Our eyes, to our very feet. Love is a triangle, An emotion without circles. Blood rises, to then fall Down to the distant call. I…
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Can you choose Which part of your heart To lose Upon the path, the lonely road That takes a dive Into the plummet of Hell? I seem to have forsaken myself, For the gift to another. Her eyes, bead back disgrace, In tears that drop from weather’s face. Storms siphon humanity From the melting pot,…
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She stands so Hellish. She would move so Hellish. Lisa whites out her flame, her spark for a dream, before a sleep ever began. She stands in a fire, and walks in the inferno, for she likes the burn to touch her. She looks at herself around the flame’s tendrils, like its form can be…
Modern Romanticism 