For a moment I smiled
The happiness I felt
couldn't be withheld.
For a moment I forgot
what it was like
to be on this constant cliff
I call my temporary home
Temporary but I've put up posters
Don't worry, the unframed kind
with thumbtacks in each corner
I forgot what it felt like
to have tears always at the back
of my eyes, to always hurt
For a moment
For a moment there were no sharp corners
no new love for me to trip over
no dark phones shadowing my thoughts
no empty space for my monster to run free
I held my breath and smiled
Then laughed, the kind that makes
my stomach ache in a good way
and my cheeks sore and stiff
For a moment I was free of everything
and it felt warm, because I'm always cold.
Just for a moment.
Then I woke up.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
A page torn from it’s binding I hold in clenched fists
Honor requests of silence and separation
From myself or everyone
It’s not me and I will remain who I am
I wrote the words in blood and I meant them
“Don’t give up on me” and I won’t, will never
years from now you will see me and I will hand over
the page that I hold, that I tore out, everything true
unconditional I spoke and you scoffed
A paradigm of miasma and good times
I am me and I will remain who I am
But I will learn and change that won’t change me
Quick witted and such a good kisser
You’ll read the words written on the crumpled paper
And I’ll have my happy ending
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
Broken dreams that aren’t broken
Just not coherent or linear
Alternate universes of flying feathers
And floating hearts a small token
We whisper against lips and foreheads
Of love and futures
But leave volumes unspoken
It’s okay because we have tomorrow
A thousand of them so we think
Until we are but awoken
Into another dream where we are awake
And live our lives hand in hand or not
Eyes closed or open, let that soak in.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
Don’t let go easily of this
Healing hurts and the pain is a badge
Of honor or a scar of pride, who knows
Wrestle with the meaning of sad songs
And pick at the scabs
They shrink beyond your control and will
But disappear without any say from you
Just like when the music stops
Before you want it to
Everyone says 'move on'
But don't
If you're not ready to
Don’t leg go easily of this
It was worth it
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
Poetic visions of heavenly moments captured in mental pictures as if by old-time cameras.
Black and white bodies with silken skin and moon kissed hair touch the stars to invoke
color flavored scents of passion and whispered promises.
Only glimpses of things to come.
Only possibilities sprinkle the vast landscape of open minds and tease the back of the eyes
where dreams play on wide screens like drive in movies.
Extinct now, except where it counts.
Rarity causes sweet sensations across the tongue that hints at juicy strawberries eaten on sweltering summer afternoons.
Perhaps watermelon passed across the fullness of lips swollen from kisses.
Endless roads mimic endless desires and dreams.
The scenery constantly changes and sleep is something vile.
A cruel optical illusion no less tangible than aged lace found in an abandoned attic.
A heart slumbers amidst the sands of the desert-like rib cage, rearing it's head to roar for it's mate unexpectedly and frighteningly loud.
Impossible to ignore for very long.
Placate the beast with promises of more sleep, more dreams, more voices, more silent movie moments of words spoken with veiled glances and feather light caresses.
Promise to acknowledge what it already knows as truth and to stop dancing in shadows of fear and safety.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
When silence becomes everything but
and friends walk in strangers' shoes,
time slows and yet moves
beyond mere comprehension,
should you be worried?
Maybe when confusion murders reason
and takes the crown to amazing applause from onlookers
and sightseers, which only leads to dreams
becoming reality, will you be worried.
Because without reason the dreams never were,
they simply are
- nightmares.
Insanity starts to make sense
and one brown eyed girl cries
tears of compassion for what
will never be the same again.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
Shades of grey cover with whispered wantings,
becomes cool breezes that stirs every winter leaf of
almost barren trees sideways, ever so brief.
A flicker of color against cheeks brushed by lashes
and kissed with freckles of mumbled promises.
Moments stolen but ours to take them
Seasons past of futures glimpsed hanging on hope.
Perchance you hold empty offerings but upon inspection
of closer sighs you hold a vessel of sentiments which
beats with rhythmic precision that is immeasurable in worth.
Parry and ****** in a dance of breaths and winds that move
time beyond possibilities like clouds atop dreams.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
I clench my jaw as my fingernails scratch the surface.
A white wall darkened by instances that were meant to be felt, but were not.
My nails make no mark.
No chip in the non-existent paint that wasn't used to hide imperfections.
I would pound at the mocking whiteness, but my fists are already bloodied and bruised, useless.
I think I should scream and cry at the injustice, inevitability, frustration, and fear.
But they would just laugh at me from the other side.
So instead I turn away from the wall, only to be greeted by three more.
For a moment, a smile plays at my lips, then vanishes just as quickly.
The irony does not escape me.
I created this place of protection from feeling..and now I have become it's prisoner.
What is there left to do now but wait?
Question is...
When you find this place of mine and open the door...will I still be here?
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
Fear lives within me
It creates excuses
Do I even possess courage
Or am I mistaking it
for Stupidity
Impulsive to a point
Responsible to a downfall
A stick stuck in the mud
of righteousness oozing with
The Past
Am I afraid to fail?
or afraid to fall?
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Question the resolution of ribs
to keep such a beating creature at bay
Muscles quiver, ready to run
Thoughts and confusions, curiosity
keep feet rooted, begging to stay
planted in unfamiliar soil
A tortuous cleansing of cluttered spaces
Organized voids open to collect dust
from the tumultuous whirlwind
of constant searching and hiding
A game to be played, we must
break the rules along with the board
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC