i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel
written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart
glow
letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you
i wrote you
a letter every day.
i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me
bloom.
eventually
i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.
creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.
i began to send
letters
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears
pouring
from my eyes
as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.
my last letter
addressed to you
contained
no words
but was blank.
because
i had none that
could reach
as far
and deep
into the cracks
of my
heart
to describe
just
what you
had left
of me.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
One day someone will be taking care of me
When I'm sick and when I'm hurt
Someday I'll come home to a person
Who washed and folded all my shirts
Maybe in the future he'll make dinner for me too
And know how I'm feeling even if what I say isn't true
I'll work all day and get home so tired and worn
And maybe he will do, and feel, the same
We could just lay on the ground and order a pizza
Eat half of it and pass out where we lay
Wake up at four in the morning, only seeing silhouettes in the night
And hold each others hands as we find our bed without our sight
I'd make him surprise meals, maybe way too soon
And discourage myself as he's out so late that day
He'd come home and I'd tell him what I'd created
Although now its cold/ soggy/ not the same, he'd still kiss me and say,
"Thank you, baby. I'm sorry I was late, did I make you cry?"
And I'd nod and look nonchalant... or at least I'd try.
When we're apart, I'll think of him all throughout my time
Thinking of future gifts and laughing too hard at his past puns
Maybe looking like a lovestruck idiot in public
But he would know, that's just how my mind runs
And seeing each other again, I'd make sure to feel his face too much
He'd let me, since he would love my touch
He'd watch me sleeping ugly, with drool and farts and noise
He'd probably record it to blackmail me later,
Threatening with laughter to show it to all his friends
But little would he know that I could do one greater:
Revealing the albums of candid photos and videos in my phone
And I wouldn't be able to help it, he would just be so cute-prone
We may argue over something silly, something stupid, and I'd refuse to see him at all
Looking away when he walks by and ignoring him when he talks to me
He'd be hurt, and he would tell me that, my icy heart would melt away
And I'd hug him so tight and apologize for being a meanie
He wouldn't say anything, what if he doesn't hug me back?
...what if he never again placed his hands on my back?
What if I ruin everything? If my personality is immature and strong
He'll have had enough of it and he'll gently tell me he's letting me go
I know I'll cry, asking if he still wants to keep the gifts I gave
And my heart will be trembling as I fear he may say no...
Because each moment was a whirlwind of him
I'm afraid I'll ruin my future before it begins...
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
The leaves fell gently, golden
on the first day
of our autumn,
while the past crackled
beneath our feet,
swept away, forgotten.
Your camera stored our moments,
caught the snowflakes,
froze us in time.
And when they were nearly frostbit,
your hands found home
entwined with mine.
But just when spring returned
my fear formed clouds
of acid rain -
I only knew how
much I'd lost when
silence fell again.
Clear as the summer sky,
I knew that we would
have to part,
so I pressed your final flower
into the notebook
of my heart.
-
The forest clearing
of our autumn
holds nothing at all
but a whispered wish
in golden winds
as the leaves gently fall.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.
I can paint over nearly anything
You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.
My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.
I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time
I’m very talented, you see.
But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away
Right through your fingers.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
the wind is drunk on its liquor
a subtle slurring
lilies stir on the lilt of its voice
as harsh a requitement
again, I find no respite
as lithe as the life
in those ever-rearing gold rows of wheat
mistral born, on the rise
like prying eyes
I am thrown
into some tumult,
where some enemy rages on
shakes his staff against the cold
where the lighter chaff is tossed
toward the salt that laps the sand
on the sweet breath of its benthos
I am withering
but the wind blows on
whiles along –
drones its tepid mourning song
springs the dew
from its calloused palms
I am thrown
as sure of war
as trees will shed and flourish
and shed and flourish
in seasons to and fro'
freshly disowned
by the earth and its shoulder
a carapace of autumn's
exhumed again
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.
soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.
cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.
heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.
strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.
washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation
flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.
watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
*be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit
give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration
so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction
more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying
speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them*
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
tonight, everything is normal.
the crickets chirp, the traffic hums,
the children work at problem sums.
adults, too worn out to act formal,
leave their work-shoes at the door
and heavy hearts upon the floor.
while the buildings blink asleep
and the clouds dapple the sky,
wind carries tired thoughts up high.
a thousand secrets the moon keeps.
a thousand wishes the stars hold,
burning silver, red and gold.
tawny owl, take my message
through the forests lit with white,
to the one who gave me light.
tawny owl, have safe passage
over the shores that oceans kiss,
to the one I'll always miss.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Take me back to that
tower in the woods.
Threading our way around the trees,
we'll see their canopies from the sky
as the rain falls around us.
And even when lightning lines the clouds
with silver, and the thunder rumbles
with the beating of our hearts,
we can be silent, and smile.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
in the thick grey fog
my compass turns endlessly -
may i return home?
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC