. The faucet is left open
seconds of water left running
while we sleep
the winds all tap on the window
they lay themselves out along the glass
to cover her ugly nakedness
while we sleep
smoke and frost look too alike
so why does one stay while the other
where do you run
to the guillotine?
you’ve no one to execute
though you are the queen
you bury your hands into the horizon
between pain and bliss
the ladder is falling
it fits in your wrist
the second poem of the first installment of short spontaneously written strings of words. happy new year xo.
You knew what perfection tasted like
as if you’ve molded limbs in a soulful dance
or bathed in each other’s voices in song
You knew what iniquity smelled like
the sickening sweet scent
from whenever your finger bones ran
graciously along her hair like the waves rushed to meet the shore
And through either you created me:
a strong bitter abyss that looks too much like heaven
drowned deep into the naked ***** of the eye
If you had not laid your flesh like a crown around my throne,
their tongues would not have craved for even a single crystal of you
you who slips carelessly pretty upon the seas
Our amalgamation was never meant to be candid
no melange with our imprints meant to stand the kisses of the sea
our collisions orchestrate an ecstacy, one that morphs with my solitude.
If every human that passed our hearts
left behind little seeds
And watered them every return
and graced them with charming deeds,
If they went out of their way every time
and brought some drips of sun
If they stayed through the pale moonlight
and shielded them from every storm,
If they spoke with them each visit
or sang them melodies
I wonder how tall those plants would grow
before their person leaves...
Art was religion’s enemy, but nobody knew it.
Ignorance’s persecution and deception’s excommunication
are invisible marks stamped onto every wooden pallete.
What with the saints’ every feature executed with the finest human touches,
it’s divinity could not be more countoured and highlighted.
The bold kisses of sunlight onto the walls of the cathedrals
remind tense shoulders and pointed slippers how much they are adored by the universe..
while they, not as much so.
God’s fingerprints are engraved onto every human brain
for the mind is powerful enough to imagine
vast forests and fine cloth,
sweet wine and golden crusts of bread,
cherry lips and tamed silver hairs,
the softest pillows for varnished beds,
herds of sheep and gallops of mares.
The artist is glorified, admired and lusted for the deceptions it’s brushes could print onto textured paper.
Perhaps heaven’s mess sent graciously upon wiked ground,
unfertile for carrying the growth of who is gripping too lightly on the artist’s border for beauty,
were the wrong tones of purple, blue, red, yellow, or brown.
your indifference remains as a ghost on my lips
and they sting like frosty mist
collarbones claw on the surface of my skin
as the naked air leaves it’s kiss
and the wings that once fluttered betwixt heartstrings
have slept carelessly on the ground
like strands of hair mistaken for threads of lust
parting limbs that were never meant to be bound
your teeth were glazed with honey
sugar crystals hiding the freckles on your nose
your lungs are calm and alcohol free
yet intoxication’s inevitable, my pores would hate to close
when your breath is hugging my nape so tight
and I can’t see your empty eyes
distant memory of impatience
in love with nothing but the end of the night.
when you’re so in love with someone and think they’re in love with you too until you share your first kiss and realize it wasn’t true because his lips taste like indifference and boredom lays along his gums you thought his honey would mix with your chocolate bones but he has proved you wrong
— The End —