Blood drops and rosy petals are,
As are Sunsets and summer skies.
Too, your lipstick and my beating heart,
Two blushing faces,
Two crying eyes.
Your long coat and wavy hair are,
As is winter's warm demise.
Too, by firesides which warm weary hearts,
I see that color graces
Too our breathless sighs.
Two shades of the same longing.
Two heartbeats: yours and mine.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 6:00 AM UTC
It comes on
and he laughs and you laugh nervously along.
(This song saved your life.)
The radio blares the **** of the latest joke, but songs
aren't allowed to save lives any more so you keep quiet.
Music isn't a cure, and The Cure have been long out of style and
it happened
before anyone had ever heard of Twenty One Pilots anyway and
since long before Rose killed herself with a twenty pill crash diet.
it happened
but he laughs and you laugh nervously along.
Those chords saved your life
But "can you believe we
ever listened
to this song?"
The sunset looks beautiful with the windows rolled down
and you wonder how you ever survived this long, anyway.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:53 PM UTC
Fingers touch my lips,
run through my hair,
undo my tie, and fits of laughter
cut through the noise and chatter
of an anxious mind.
I leave my worries behind,
pressed against her dress
on the floor with my discarded tie.
An echo. A kiss. A sigh.
What it is to be alive!
What it is to be alive.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
His teeth brush her skin and she flinches.
Breathy gasps on shifting eyes
Slide across the icy air, and inches
Of separation mark porcelain lies.
Porcelain teeth mark crimson brands
And whiter still the skin where wedding bands
Rested not long ago
Upon skin that recoils from his perfect hands.
And choices that only she can know.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
Let these creaking bodies play
the melodies of lust and test
my mettle upon the metal grey
and cold upon this weary chest.
I knew those lips would tear away
that skin, and those eyes my heart infest.
I knew my mind had gone astray
when I woke I knew who knew me best.
And her lips tasted like metal
And she boiled my emotions in a kettle
And she played lines on my chest like treble
and bass cares rose from my throat
and those lips sung slashes for the rest.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
I've given up writing December.
I swear I tried, but these lines
don't seem to care; The drugs never work.
The haze of blinking eyes and wasted time
feels like infinity. I want to misremember
those wide eyed faces and your smirk
when you said you were mine. (Words like knives.)
I knew it was fatal as soon as you whispered that lie.
I swear... I've given up this December.
My words can't dig up the dirt
to bury these Winter memories
and these lonely goodbyes...
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
I'll take a bitter kiss
if it heals the pain in my chest.
Bed-sheets stink of hate and unrest;
My nostrils fill with the smell of blood.
Hers. Mine. Ours. It smells like regret.
But all is well;
It must be for the best.
Still I'll take a bitter kiss
over a night of hateful, fierce ***
If it heals the pain in my chest,
If it's what you think is best,
If it calms this weary flood.
These sheets stink of blood.
Cut me until I cannot heal;
Steal me until I cannot feel.
Then I will rest, alone in a field
of scarlet flowers
and azure starlight
and no regrets.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
My caressing hands have stopped trying to tame the strings.
They move now more to harmony than to melodious things.
Brassy bands, drunk sailors and the sound of laughter.
The D string, the rough bar-stool clamp and clatter.
The sound of voices, raucous and hoarse with song.
The sound of voices, laughing as they all yell along.
It's a barstool anthem;
It's great and it's loud.
There're no classics here...
but Bach would be proud.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
I should write you November,
and I swear I tried, but our lives
aren't fair, and this time love isn't sweet.
The leaves have stopped their tumbling dives
through infinity. The wind won't remember
a time when I moved sound so complete
that it shattered time. (When you first became mine.)
I knew it was stupid as soon as I uttered that line.
I swear I tried to write you November,
But my words can't compete
with these Autumn lovers,
and these passionate crimes...
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 11:57 AM UTC
I should write you October
and I swear I tried, but pens
aren't ribbons, and this time ink isn't red.
The autumn wind whips through the fens.
The line is stilted. What the **** is a fen?
The chorus line is silent and sober.
The lead singer was found dead
under the bridge. (Haha get it?)
I knew it was stupid soon as I said it.
I swear I tried to write you October
but my heart heavy head
is full of Autumn clovers
and fickle friends.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC