The moonlight filters through curtains and
fills the bedroom of the stolen woman,
casting shadows against the walls
around where she lies in fitful sleeplessness.

There is a feeling in her chest, a strange, unfamiliar tightness
along her collarbone that seemed to spread
as she recalled the day that she did away with the life in her ****.
It was so cold, in that bleach white room.
The sterility of the cell, ******* the virility from within her
It hurt too, like she was being ripped apart
The sensation lingered long after the procedure.

She is exhausted. Nobody told her that pain
would be so draining.
There is nothing left in her to keep moving.
Yet even the sanctuary of a dreamless sleep evades her.
So she tosses and turns, sheets tangled around her legs
as she tries in vain to find comfort in her own bed.
Her heart aches.
This room used to be such a warm, safe place.
Solitude comforted her, as the best company in the world was her own.
Now that her most intimate relationship--
the one she had once had with herself--
has been violated,
that serenity is gone
leaving only a raw, throbbing pain in its place.

He had taken her own autonomy away from her,
but he had also stolen something almost as precious:
her time.
Three minutes of his time in exchange
for countless hours of her own,
hours that belonged rightfully to her
now belonging to him too, as he monopolized
her every waking and sleeping thought.

Now, here, in this place of bitterness
and sorrow, she felt her mind begin to fade.
A person can only grieve for so many hours in a day.
As the stabbing in her gut subsided to a dull ache
she let her eyes soften into the strain of the night,
her consciousness melting away into the shadowy morning.

The birds would not be awake for another few hours.
The sun remained tucked solemnly down
in the folds of the mountainous horizon.
Exhaustion overtook sorrow, and she reached out
into the inky blackness, turning over the digital clock
that screamed at her the morning hour.
As quickly as the red lights disappeared, so did she
And thus concluded the mourning hour.

unblemished smiles wither swiftly
crisp smile creases line the cheeks
and adorn the eyes
as youth fades into age
and age fades into oblivion
then the rest is dust and ashes.

breath is ephemeral
transcendent, even.
viridity is fleeting
foliage browns even as we speak
and soon folds into a worn leather bag
along with baubles from days of yore.

but there is a moral to the story
that these trinkets tell
they remind those remaining
of what has passed
and what is sure to come again
reminding the new to memorialize the old
and savor each moments as it comes.

When you came into my home,
I felt your gaze lock onto me.
You think I didn’t feel the way
your pale spider eyes stalked me
But I knew, from the moment you cornered me
in the lillies.

When you drew me onto your lap,
I was paralyzed.
Your hands crept closer,
never touching
yet I felt your imagination ***** my thigh
as acutely as though you had struck me
across the face.

You dwelled deep in your elected paradise
while the ****-flames from the sky licked at my limbs
and caressed my body
leaving wounds that would fade into scars
Scars I would carry until the day that I died
in your heart.

You turned my body into a wasteland,
your bubble of hot poison
polluting my heart;
my landscapes scorched
by the fire of your *****
that swept across and broke my life.

You said you could not **** me
--would not **** me-- for
“It was love at first sight,
at last sight,
at ever and ever sight."

But you can always count on a murderer
for a fancy prose style;
you tore me apart
and ripped from within me
my stillborn girl.
This child within me died
and took me along with her

But, fear not, you pentapod monster
for to you, life will go on.
For you, the rest is rust
and stardust.

Orion hangs
dutifully over the
Building adjacent to mine
His sparkling features
resemble a warrior
Lean and strong and toned

As I sit alone here in my car
Music plays softly.
My phone is about to die
yet I pull out my notes to scrawl out
A memory in the making

One of those that wasn’t
of a particular event
—A moment frozen inside itself
for no apparent reason.
A moment frozen in my mind
for no other reason
Than for its sheer simplicity, mundanity
And yet its softness.

Thinking of you
is what makes this moment
so crystal clear and bold.
Remembering your smile
is what emblazons right now
in my mind.

Memories of you sparkle
like stars against ebony skies
and draw constellations in my heart
Tracing patterns and marking paths
we have walked together
and paths we have yet to take.

And so, to Orion
I cast my final thoughts
of the night.

I need to see the looming sky
A wide, gasping chasm of color and power
Cold and unfeeling
Hot and passionate
Black fading into red into blue

I need to feel the burning air
Arid and biting on my eyelids
******* the moisture from my skin
And the toxins from my heart
Engulfing me like the embrace of a captor

I need to see the silhouette of mountains
On the striking horizon, eclipsing the void
To gasp in the thin and desperate air
Cacti that claw at the dusty wind, and
Beg for nothing in the kingdom of bones