Desolation. Winding Roads.
Last winter’s sadness
Has reverberated back around.
A heavenly melody, a dark sound.

You never stay long enough
For me to finish a poem. You never create
A space for me to call home.
Never a place to call my own.

Desolation.
Abandoned homes.
Old haunts. hometown bars.
Last years christmas lights strung on
a wooden fence.

Desolation. Winding roads.

All I wanted
was a place to call home.

I.
the boy at the coffee shop
is a nameless being
with a permanent hold on her

he fills her waking thoughts
with his soft smiles
and brown eyes
light cocoa skin
a sharp contrast
to the white of a coffee cup

every time she's there
he is too
it makes her wonder
if he happens to work there
but in all her time at the cafe
she has yet to see him
put on an apron
and ask for orders

she longs to talk to him
to banter and to flirt
to have a coffee shop au
all her own

but every time
she tries to speak
doubt creeps
into her throat
and stays there

she is a
chipped porcelain cup
gilded with gold
letting others fill her to the brim
till she spilled over the edges

someday she will
go up to talk
to the boy
at the coffee shop
but for now
she is just
a stranger
longing from afar

forever people watching
and forever watched by people

-j.

Is not shrouded in darkness,
But divine light embracing and calling you to join the Angels.
16/3/2022

Your black heart will rot in your chest
And worms will eat your body;
Your name will be whispered in hushed tones
By mouths too ashamed to give it full voice.

Morning collapses into night
with emotions scattered on the ground
here we are kneeling down
picking up the pieces,
throwing them into pools of midnight
This bitter honey sleeps on my tongue
my words unfiltered
build static charge
in these exchanges
through which this current flows
I'm left wondering, if within your eyes
I can find the pain that you disguise
if i can pull it out from this
reservoir of sunset dyes
and stain it with the words I left inside
will it bloom into the flowers
we would pick and laugh over
to hide the butterflies
circling this unknown that we once denied?

Sadness became a part of me
taking everything I know
making it all gray
That's what I am

Trying to think of a new way to live
falling into old traps
spitting fire on my old life
trying to forget how to go back

Looking for a way to love
find a way to pick myself back up
gray isn't all I was meant to be