Never what you were,
my retina dulled your rays.
Optics adrift in poetry, prose,
charity shop sweaters.
I spoke of dreamed ambition.
You nodded, morose.
Eyes chasing space.
Never what you were.
Bookshelves, potted plants, a bicycle bell ringing.
Coffee steam clawing New Zealand winds.
This and more flickered in our hazed tethering,
only snuffed when the tap of illusion ran cold.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
you are
not
the one
you are no
singularity
the sun
scouring my dark
iridescent
that
is what you are
what you have been
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
She.
She lifts her skirt
Straight hips motionless
He.
He paints his face
Beige clogs his sprouting pores
They.
They demand attention
No one should be as they are not
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC