Your body is poetry, your soul a verb without a name
that sings away the hole in my heart that I didn’t know I had.
You reach for my hand and I for your gaze as you pull me closer,
nose to nose, a kiss’ distance away from immortality.
Your breath is mine as my heart beats for you
and the world is just
far away
under this moon, the same as always and yet somehow changed,
an intimacy overlooked, a beauty that we have shared
each night for each night of our lives without thought
as she pulls the ocean closer to the land,
and shines for us tonight.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
Your body is poetry, your soul a verb without a name
that sings away the hole in my heart that I didn’t know I had.
You reach for my hand and I for your gaze as you pull me closer,
nose to nose, a kiss’ distance away from immortality.
Your breath is mine as my heart beats for you
and the world is just
far away
under this moon, the same as always and yet somehow changed,
an intimacy overlooked, a beauty that we have shared
each night for each night of our lives without thought
as she pulls the ocean closer to the land,
and shines for us tonight.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
You're hurting. You're hurting bad.
I can see it in your bloodshot eyes
And how you shy away from smiles
Directed at you. Now your once-had
Gleaming spirit dwindles as it tries
To cut its pain with bleak exile.
But blood is pumping through your veins -
Don't change its course with nails or steel.
Our love for you will never fade, though
You ask me what I'd do if somone else took hold your reins
And replaced you, thinking that would make us feel
Happier - without you? Never. No.
I feel anger and frustration because I'm only human,
But nothing on this planet makes me happy like you can.
I love you, you know that. Believe that in yourself.
So stay with me - you'll be with me,
a heart within myself.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
I won't say I'm bipolar because I'm
permanently enduring unstable.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
Internal convulsions occur when I
stare
stare
stare
at that body that people tell me is beautiful,
but all I can comprehend is that slab of undesired waste
piled up on that heap of toxic reoccurences
that I am too cowardly to face.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
Why must a heart beat?
To keep a rhythmic marching time through life?
That common tempo keeping order in
our lawless world of hate and fear death.
Each heartbeat rallies troops across the globe,
a single feature shared in every life,
an army built on spirit, crying out
with every thump that we are one.
But what must hearts beat for?
To beat we mean to say 'to fight,'
and for what better cause to fight than love?
That painful pleasure wielding power both
to wreck lives and create them,
the strength it gives to those from whom it stole in battles past.
Enamoured and encased in armour,
steeled against the pain before
as drums beat faster
palms grow sweaty
the tempo quickens
gazes steady
you brace and lean in
gently
and surrender to his kiss
as he gives in to yours,
your battle won by both
as both your drums keep time in perfect synchrony
your breaths the perfect melody that keep
the perfect peace.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
A heart that beat
in tempered time
but skipped-
tripped up
and fell on you.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
An inkblot tarnish that bleeds through sheets
of work, an all-consuming blackness that eats
through my morale like acid through a petal,
that slow and steady browning tainting
the pure white of that spotless rose,
imperfect now, and damaged,
the bruise that seeps across capillaries
of hope until all thought of life is tender
and sore to touch,
false colours marking things that shouldn't be,
my failure marked in bold for me to see.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
This thing I have,
it makes me sick;
I'm tired of life
just drumming on
the same as life
the day before,
my hair receding
more and more,
and nothing stops
this ruthless train
from ploughing down
my tortured brain,
the scars it carves
are deep ingrained,
and split my soul
in sorry halves,
each impulse sparking
shots of shame
that jab my spine
with ****** of pain,
each choking breath
a living death,
a rhythm that
just picks up speed
with every whine,
a whispered threat
that only tortured
ones can heed-
...
So I will shave my head.
...
My broken slate will be wiped clean.
This sorry life I'll now grab back
and brand new paths I'll tread.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
A poet writes upon the heart
and sings among the shining stars,
each scribble painting portraits vast
as each mind hums and wanders past
their secret dreams and battle scars,
and turns thoughts into glorious art.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC