Te dije una vez que si volabas de mi, te esperaría.
Y si regresaste, te besaría tus alas hermosas aunque te permiten dejarme.
Pero te hiciste humano cuando dejaste que te arrancaran las alas, tirándolos en el piso como pañuelo de papel.
Entonces no volaste de mí, simplemente caminaste sobre la grava para esperar a que tu vida se desenredara.
En ese momento, el mundo perdio una hada para nada.
Y cuando vi tus alas andrajosas, las recogí del suelo, las desempolvé, y las uní a mis espalda.
Sin mirar atrás, tomé de vuelo, a un día nuevo.
Y así, estaba libre de ti.
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 9:27 PM UTC
You’d think us all farmers who toil
At this vast fertile soil
Tapping each network of roots
For the system that bears the best fruits
Though this is how we communicate
There are better ways to tend
Than seeing trees as disposable saplings
From which to ****** a date
With this smorgasbord of choice, I find
We all suffer a tell tale fate
Of being plucked from the stem
Half-heartedly nibbled upon the rind
Then silently thrown upon the rest
A wave unable to crest
Why not show some purpose on the ranch
Consider the date that was once on the branch
Instead we hear the same sad song
About the forgotten fruit of the palm
Condemned without a word
Left to their thoughts inferred
So maybe farmer’s the wrong term
They care for each flower, seedling, and worm
Creating darkness and dead air
Only leaves one famished and impaired
That said, I never hold delusions of hope
Thinking thumbs are stiff or broke
I’d rather pour myself a glass and toast
To all of the liches, nymphs, and ghosts
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
I was lured to the garden by the scent of fresh berries
With fruit so fresh as if it tended by faeries
I plucked a morsel from an extending branch
And without hesitation, put the pome to my lips
Savoring it for a sweet moment before devouring it whole
Eagerly lapping at my stained finger tips
So enamored I was by each bright sensation
I was unaware of the nettles, whose spines crept and settled
Sinking into my flesh, and poisoning the bone
First there was an itch and then a sharp pain
As I was torn away from what I couldn't lay claim
And what at first seemed a garden was but a damp grave
The plant tags were tombstones
Of others who’d strayed
And as I fell prone from my festering abrasions
My eyes becoming dark and my senses dulled
I realized I was nothing but a number in the faeries' death toll
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
Here I stand, a most gracious host
For though we’ve just met
I’ll quickly bend my spine
And offer a look inside
While the contents may fly errant
I hope the words are read
Risking the tearing of my pages
Over performance and stages
Or the staining of my sleeve
Over the webs spiders weave
But when all is said and set
Those who are transparent
Have more in common with ghosts
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
Guided by spirits
Swimming in lust
Sweat, saliva, and dried up ***
Here crumpled sheets lead to darkened streets
And the sound of the heartbeat drum
Is replaced by the tapping of feet
How beauty begins to rust
Fairy, muse, or nymph?
Opaque glass, sight unclear
They say the only way to know
Is to hold up a mirror
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC