Bronze to purple to red to greenish-yellow to bronze again
Your kisses wilt into my skin
And- for one final time-
The poison seeps into my veins;
Intoxicated, entranced, and utterly alone
I lay paralyzed
A slow upward climb before inescapable decline.
I watch the rotations of the stone-
I could have sworn it was a boulder-
Rolling from the top of the hill,
Farther and farther and farther still,
Kiss me.
With your antivenom,
Let me be free
To chase it and drag it and push it back up.
But before I lean in and resign
To claw back through the mudslide,
To let each falling tear drop be dried,
To stand tall in white, the blushing bride,
And swallow 3 ounces of unbottled pride (every two to four hours, of course),
I hear my mother whisper.
I catch a glimpse of it in my periphery,
Rolling hills and tranquility,
There it is–
The other side.
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 10:36 PM UTC
Ours is something
To be explained away;
I love you
But– I think to myself.
I love you
But– there will be a day I do not.
I love you
But– I do not know what love means.
I love you
But–
You gifted me a vase
Rose, iris, baby’s breath, chrysanthemum
In purples and pinks and whites
They wither quickly
Alongside the spider webs in my closet,
They crack and brown
Buried in the darkness of thick winter blankets,
Hidden within the folds
Of that green dress I wore
They rot.
I stay awake until
The old clock ticks in silence,
Sound bouncing off empty corners and into the abyss,
I unsheathe the vase from my closet and hold it up
To the yellow-orange ceiling light,
Blinds drawn tightly,
Damage control;
“Live, please, live. Just a little longer.”
I press my nose into it,
And baby’s breath becomes hemlock,
Iris into nightshade,
Chrysanthemums now oleander,
And the roses–
Stay roses,
I press my nose into it,
Tears replenish dried water,
Feeding the poison,
Dying, slowly, in darkness.
I love you
But– this cannot be love.
I love you
But– I have not sacrificed,
Have not pained or labored or suffered,
I love you
But– If this is love
Then what have I known?
Ours was something
Of swimming pools and summer air,
White boy indie guitar,
Art museums and coffee,
Flowers, book stores, paint drops on your cheek,
It was leather car seats and upstairs lofts,
The frantic finding of fabric
As doors creaked open.
I bury my face into purple roses,
I swear they smell of you,
“I love you, I love you, I love you,”
A million times,
“I love you, I love you, I love you,”
Until the words melt
Into a meaningless sludge,
No one to hear them,
Sound bouncing off empty corners and into the abyss,
I love you
And–
I am leaving you.
Jul 21, 2023
Jul 21, 2023 at 2:01 PM UTC
The sun once rose to bless our mornings
By the pond and olive grove
Breakfast cooked to feed the masses
Boiling over on the stove
And on the grapevine there did grow
Amethyst clusters, picked in light
Heavy gems that hung so low
I stood to marvel at the sight
And in the noon,
The earth would swell
With jasmines scented sweet as honey
And of troubles, one could tell
But never were they quite too many
Birds would open their beaks to chirp
Without much compelling reason
For in the open countryside
It was grape picking season
Or, at least, it was supposed to be
Yet for some reason, unannounced to me,
This year, the grapes, they will not grow.
In that moment, They said to us,
As though it were the word of God
Through biting mouths lined with silver:
“You reap whatever it is you sow”,
But the vine still hangs wilted and yellow
And the grapes are shriveled
And will not grow
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 7:05 PM UTC
The sun seemed in distress this morning,
With burdens it could not express this morning.
The fields are black and burned by dawn
As dove’s wings melt and regress this morning.
The Earth has paused in its rotation,
Though none shall truly confess this morning.
Where have you gone my love, oh where?
I search for you nevertheless this morning.
A love I no longer possess this morning
Has returned- the last time- to bless this morning.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 7:04 PM UTC
"Do you remember me?"
"Yeah."
"It's been a while."
"Yeah, it has"
I met him again. I told myself that this would happen, and yet I chose to live as if it never would. I chose to forget you.
You are my destiny, and I cannot ignore it any longer.
"Goodb- well, actually, we'll probably meet again someday."
"We just keep running into each other."
"Yeah, funny how that happens."
"Call me when you're in the area?"
"I won't."
"Fine by me."
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 7:02 PM UTC
What have we become, as the years have drawn on
At the hands of ourselves and our fate
Unmoving in the pillars we rested our lives upon
What have we become
Convincing ourselves we were but a moment too late
Biding time ‘till we could fly on the wings of a swan
As our minds rotted at an ever-quickening rate
Dismissing our stumble as an unlikely phenomenon
Our thundering heartbeats left to reverberate
The mirage of our advance now shattered and gone
What have we become
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 12:01 PM UTC
"It's not that bad,
I tastes good, I swear"
It was cold, and bitter, and vile
Yet I still ordered it
Every
Single
Time
Like a magical elixr
Of momentary freedom
From the wires of guilt
Welded into my neural pathways
Just enough-
To not cause suspicion
But not so much
That I'd collapse
Strong enough
To make me jittery,
Anxious, nauseated,
But still incomparable
To the unspeakable sin
Of sustenance,
So when I saw stars standing up,
Or buckled over at the knees,
And wondered why
It was even worth it?
I'd come to the same conclusion
Every
Single
Time
And it was this:
It doesn't matter anyways
Because I'll never
Be able
To stop.
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 9:49 PM UTC
Soft rains drift on winds of change
Pitter-patter on my window pane
Enchanting the Earth with life renewed
By playing an old, nostalgic tune
That brings back melodies
The years had erased
Immersing me in
Your forgotten embrace
And for a moment,
My darling,
I see your delicate gleam
Rising from the asphalt
In small bouts of steam
Dancing along the empty lane
Tormenting me in my lonely disdain
For I know
Our separation will be long
But until we meet once more:
Soft rains drift on winds of change
Pitter-patter on my window pane
Playing you my love song.
Can you hear it,
My darling?
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
The vibrant dreams
of a young girl
And the elegent drapery
Of frivolous royalty
The colors of rage-
-and sadness
Of power-
-and compromise
Immersed into one
And spit out
Onto lavender fields
And violet sunsets
And all sorts
Of delicate little pretty things
Telling stories of burning love
Mixed with icy lonliness
On the writer's palette
Like the violet buds of affection
Nipped in their juvenile buds
But also the wilting leaves of a lilac
Left to rot past its prime
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 8:43 AM UTC
To fill a void of broken glass
I inhaled,
I absorbed,
And consumed my past.
Tried to bury it under a pile of ash
And suffocate it with a wiry cord
To no avail!
Because, like a restless panther,
Some unconcealable part of me roared
With an unquenchable thirst
For blood.
I looked at the panther’s golden eyes,
At its slender, shadow-like presence
Wondering what it could so despise
About my very essence
But mostly,
I stared, mesmerized
At a row of white, perfect daggers
That had, no doubt, heard many fearful cries
Before mine.
So I ran, but not fast enough-
For the panther ran faster
Called out my bluff
And leaped to cover me
With a curtain of ink-black fur.
Sensing disaster,
I froze in place,
Flames seizing my lungs,
Having lost the chase -
- And then there was silence.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 11:21 AM UTC