Writing
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Tortured under rain,with your final word in.Under your breath,sheltered with these stains,blank in this ruinwhere faces are crossingfrom their forms, their historiesretraced from their passing. I am attached to those signson a road, soaked in aftermath.I have not bloomed in this ungraceful,expensive method to see me through,to see me at peace,among those who residein this…
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Open veins,a tissue to accompanya teardrop’s epiphany.Something is smearedupon these floors,as water comes near. I cannot convene,cannot conversein bleeding verse,as these woundsheal in reverse. I am backtrackingto where light had beguna moment, one that lastednear a rising sun.I remember all that enteredinto this skeletal frame.I added no color,being blinded as a newborn,darkened in sightunder love’s…
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I have for yousomething to believe in,though you’ve turned intosomeone I cannot redo.You’ve lost temper,becoming rusted, within.You’ve shown restraint,backing yourself against wallswhere portraits hold,while color is lost. We’ve been unfortified,lacking strength in these tides.We’ve been weaponizedin reusing old designs,because we’ve never developedbeyond a grim disguise. Selling ourselves to shame,wielding hearts for this placewhere memories turned…
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Pain does bring back that rain,though summer is always warm,while autumn sheds those leavesI should have uncoveredto see remaining green. Love had reused old memories,while life turns to ashessome sense of symmetry.What was I feeling during spring,when during those throes of winterthere’s no color left to bring? Shredded photographs,fog that conceals this townwhere I am…
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Hand over your caressto skin, wounded with history.You are standing in the rain,reusing ink in each droplet, while telling a storyin different sized puddles. What reflections are thereto shatter you betweenour split hemispheres? I am connected,while you are holdingonto nothing but wind.I am receivingyour repeated words,declining in your circles, being outlined,being traced. Can we rearrange…
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Should we even dance,sharing these same creases?Pages are reduced to numbers,in countless memories. We neglect an understandingfor what’s become overgrown,what’s been overdone,overused in endless reminder. We pause at a turn,seeing what’s over our shoulders,listening to invisible hearts,deafened in what they’re telling us,beneath this falling rain. Thunder lights a matchat a settling of unanswered prayers,noting what…
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You were wipingyour twin’s reflectionfrom your favorite mirror.I have been eclipsingthis heart, from a different,unfamiliar reflection, for I want what’s similarto keep staring back at me,in those wires,those tangles. Threads were all we had,baring our flesh,after being reducedto ashes and vulnerability. Wilted forms, with screamsto the burial of thornsinto uncovered flesh. I love to see…
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I am choosing betweenstepping stones, landing zones,hoping to fall somewhere,in between. As I am losing tothis heart that’s sunken beneath,you strive for that smile tosee me rise upon two feet. Love comes in different forms,it is said, though I am strugglingto refrain from rememberingwhen I kissed a pair of lipsthat bled me in circles. Life…
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Faces turn to frost,breaths turn to silver.I am burning for another stormto continue this sequence,to remember that same fragrancelost at the edges of fingers. Who had gone to rubble?What had yet to be built,trusted for its sturdiness? I have spread ashesto be carried like seeds,having nothing more to leave,no one more to bleed for. Who…
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Loose tears, last wordsrunning on with those gustsfrom inseminating thunderstorms. What grows from death,but another breath?Another seed to birth alivea simple newness, added with a pair of eyes,delighting inunachieved findings. She spells her retreatas an oriental signature.A needless filigree,draped in knots and folds.All I can confirmwithin her state,is to that rushfrom a cold fate, as…
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A hazeof your familiarity.I leave another rose –a fragment of my heart –to die, beside where you are,folded in the earth,like a letter that crumbledwith its words, those that becamemere whispers. Silence in this violentpath through a life,caught in space.I have heard you,like you hear these prayersthat question your commitmentto a darkness. You were hanging…
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An ocean with its waves,distant curvature of somewhere elseinvites me, persists meto return to a truth. To give me a spark, upon the sightof loving light at a housewhere a savior would greet me,where a glance would examine meupon everything I disbelieved. Inflamed with the sun,presenting an aura with the moon,though nothing has raised meto…
Modern Romanticism 