Let the wounded bird take wing,
Though dismal may be his fate;
Should he overcome this cruel sting,
His triumph he'll celebrate
Let the willow bend and weep;
Though it appears to be weak,
It would tell you its roots run deep
If it were able to speak
Let the wolf howl to the moon --
He has the right to be heard;
Morning will be here all too soon,
Then enters the singing bird
Let the spider weave her snare,
For this task she was designed;
While her prey, feeling no despair,
Awaits its cruel fate, resigned
Let love and loneliness brawl,
Let die the things that must die;
Release the tears and let them fall,
And let the broken heart cry
Let me love without constraints --
The sinking boat needs no oar;
Do not preach of sinners and saints
With Death's feet so near my door
Let me taste love's sweetest wine,
And let this shattered heart mend;
Having seen my star of love shine,
Then let the curtain descend
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
I took your pastel veins
and interlaced them with my cordial fingertips
I knew you were hurting
I could feel how fragile your life was in that moment
Like paper
-Creases for the martyr
Your bones have grown brittle and cold from the tainted oxygen hovering amidst our sorrow
And heartache is your closest friend
Like a pastel painting on a smoke stained canvas
Edges worn, color bleeding
Bleeding
-A work of art for the martyr
I feel your agony through your skin
Your eyes are tired and dwindling
Time, I know has not been on your side
I know
-No time for the martyr
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
Something about the way the crack of dawn seeps life into your
shadows
With the blinds intricate lines displayed upon your ribs
Something about the awareness associated with a start of a new day
...Hours
...Coffee
...Bills
People
More people
The ensuing chaos
And all you really want to do is stay here and be consumed by the morning glory
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
For you
I’d just as soon sabotage this nest
Not really for you
You
You
You
Could never catch the strings falling now
That we’ve woven with every aching question left unanswered
The strings that have for so long entangled my heart and soul
[Trapping them]
My caged conscious craving flight
Like you and I
In
this
loss
of
gravity
I’m not sure what to do with all of this room now
Or with the taste your name leaves on my lips
Or how your smell is imbedded in the walls
You, you you
Simply I will utter
I am not for
YOU
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
Her love
You know the sort
That makes you lay your head against the hardwood floor
Questioning yourself
Or no one in particular
Where did she come from?
Do you remember eagerly awaiting an answer
From beneath the crevices pushing against your jaw line
As the silence gnawed on your bones
Because I bet when she touched her fingertips to yours
Both of your souls response insinuated a path of many colors
Did her laughter warm your frost bitten lungs?
While her stare burnt bright behind your irises?
She probably tenderly confided in you a thousand silent words
Day after day
Until the depths of her beauty lit that fire inside
Igniting it with a smile that threw your heart into the wind
Every time
She was that commercial love , Right?
Misty meadows and crashing waves with summer salt
She was that drown in her kiss and leave you gasping for air, love
That lay your head on the hardwood and wonder where it all went love
Am I right?
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
Squeamish much?
Did he really think he could call my bluff?
By the way his shoulders fold out to hide his face I assume he sought
Now he's cleaning his mess from the floor, shattered like red rubies
Because he was referring to God but only saw himself in my shades as he accused me
And morality falters with every exhale he can muster
The thought of ripping his spine out, God knows would satisfy my interest in watching him suffer
He stood before me and spat how I was a waste of a woman
Because I prefer soft hands and collarbones, with love as passionate as a dressing room kiss
I said it's perpetually misunderstood in all of its bliss, my preference doesn't hold you liable
Neither, your ignorance
Something about the power invested in the moan of a woman, the throb in my heart causes my blood to flow hotter and brighter
He said its blasphemy, frowned upon in the Bible
So I took his girlfriend for a joyride and taught her how to really smile
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC