What colors are growing around us,
In the space between our breaths?
heavy wings don't carry
hushed whispers scream
night ticks on forever
like falling in a dream
What colors are growing around us,
In the empty space between our breaths?
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 7:05 PM UTC
My shadows will eat you
One grey day, a nefarious
Nibble
One decimated dream, a brutish
Bite
One more night by the window, a gargantuan
Gulp
One more always regret, a slow and sealing
Slurp
My shadows, they ate you up
One golden drop at a
Time
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 6:30 PM UTC
it was just You and me,
by the bathroom sink,
curled up against the pain—
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
I’m liquorice
The classic kind
Dark and bold
Lingering but not loquacious
Biting but not bitter
Sugared but never saccharine
A half-forgotten flavor
You may not like me as I am
After all
I’m an acquired taste
May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
I think about you when it rains...
running in joy—
toward our farthest fences
because we live—
to breathe in the smell of wet earth
and feel the rain kiss our faces
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 2:12 PM UTC
I open my mouth
like a cherished cherry
violent and vivid vermilion
Words like a lovely lemon
acerbic and acidic arts
They fly
Loud enough —
to crack or cleave
curse or cut
****** battlefield
of my verbal violence
left lingering
I always open my mouth
and let them OUT
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 1:48 PM UTC
Fear, you floating specter,
so hellishly real,
Greatest among the greats,
I held you at bay all day, all week, all the long months now
shoved aside during breakfast and at goodnights
But looming now, like a—Void
We meet here
And you kiss my eyes open
And you rock me awake
And you tenderly rip the heart from my Breath—
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
If this was a book, I would guess the end
before it came
I would know the villains from the heroes
—Judging from mustachios with a penchant for being twirled
—Judging from gleaming armor and soulful eyes
I wouldn't have to wonder at the meaning
or fight for it
I could say, 'I knew that would happen'
Chekhov's gun would be used every time
Everything would be impossibly simple and neat
all the loose ends would be tied in pretty bows
all the questions answered with trite wisdom
And I wouldn't be left,
wondering
at the end
I would simply fade
to the white emptiness
of an unwritten page
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 4:56 PM UTC
I
forged, framed, formed
an ache to be caressed
embraced
fulgent or blazing
even if
I
must die
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC
No more sorrow
No more holes
No more broken things—
like souls
No more chains
No more rust
No more death—
that turns to dust
No more pain
No more fear
No more shame—
with hidden tears
He came
He came
He came
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 7:56 PM UTC