El momento que te largaste,
la luna se colgo como espejo,
un recuerdo doloroso de tu existencia.
Güera;
brillando porcelana y distante
pero presente
en la noche de mi vida seguiendo tu partida.
Ahora que es invierno se ha puesto peor.
Caídas de nieve hirientamente blanca
forman tus costillas en mi patio,
manchas de tierra visible tus lunares,
y cuando miro por la ventana
lo tengo por seguro que mientras viva tu memoria’s melliza en mi cielo,
yo me morire con cada atardecer.
—
The moment you left,
the moon hung itself like a mirror,
a painful reminder of your existence.
Pale;
shining porcelain and distant,
but present
in the night of my life following your departure.
Now that it’s winter it has become worse;
downfalls of agonizingly white snow
form your ribs in my backyard,
visible dirt stains your beauty marks,
and when I look out the window
I’m assured that as long as your memory’s twin lives in my sky,
I will die with each and every sunset.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
thin lips = cruel sips
at my resolve
and three quarters willful
need to do away
with your memory's
hips.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
i
for anyone else wondering when it will stop
it won't
stop trying to fill the cup
bottoms been cut out
we'll always move across dimly lit rooms
and lick at our petal blossom wounds
waiting on someone to dress them
while ********** themselves
ii
if i could hide in the valley between your milky ribs
i wouldn't mind the sand
or storms
of stranger's fingers
i swear
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 4:55 PM UTC
a coatroom
there are hooks where your words go
they’re hung every two of four synapses
and when the coats are missing
they shift and snag
on nerves and loneliness
where are your kinder syllables
and why don’t they mind
a lacking or longing
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 8:46 PM UTC
what's the matter lady
moon is always waning
smile fragrant paining
grind those whitewashed tombstones
into a fine dust and blow it my eye
so i might cry
over you
and the distance
and have it be half hearted
but still textbook lacrimosa
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
if the sun should forget me
if the moon should forsake me
there will be no need to worry
now that you're here
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
you
poor
naive
thing
city buckles under smog
while rat friends feast
on it's underbelly
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
tie back
those homely strands
with extravagant bows
you're nothing more
than
a box
inside a box
inside a box
inside a box
inside an empty
box
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
i treat you like i do a ripe peach
nuzzle smooth skin
and search for that scent
which tells me to smile
and sink incisors in
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 2:04 AM UTC