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Carl Miller Jan 2021
You are the sunshine I never wanted
When the moon draws back at morn
You are a tragedy I long to forget
Laced with waste my past you adorn

Die alone
Get out.
Carl Miller Jan 2021
There's an old curtain hanging in my closet
I reach my hand out to touch it sometimes
And sometimes I feel another hand, small and trembling
Reach back through, as if to ask for me to hold it
Short poems like this make for some of the most visually disturbing imagery. This poem is exactly what it sounds like it's about. Read it again.

Carl Miller Jan 2021
Tangled up in winding ropes
Of some sobering, humble tragedy
Retracing the steps leading
To the body of some old elegy

While flames dance across her porcelain legs
Making marks on her calves in the shapes of crosses
Holy heat in the crucible of a crucifix
Reminding her of the binding expression
six, six, six
You brought this on yourself.
Carl Miller Jan 2021
I could have been your guide
While every star in the night sky died slowly
But You didn't know what You wanted
Or rather, You wanted anything but me
Forget me if it helps you cope.
Carl Miller Jan 2021
Bound to a boxspring
With scars on her legs and feet
Eyes adjusting to the light
The faint glow of day warm and sweet

I had never seen wings so silken
Like sheets of cashmere doused in flame
With arms open wide, tied
As if she were a part of the old bed frame

I ask her for her name
As though she would remember vividly
Eight long weeks in the dark
She croaks “sorrow” timidly
You were in pain.
Carl Miller Jan 2021
While I stood above my grave
Above my body held in time's temporal grasp
Beside the flowers and the tide
I look back on everything, that was nothing, but a wave
It never lasts.
Carl Miller Jan 2021
It's raining up in heaven, or so they say
The cherubim lament the choices that I've made
The father's hands hold me where I lay
If hell has frozen over, then why is heaven so far away

An ocean to tear my spirit from my frame
The warmer waters fear me all the same
I've seen it and it kills me to know its name
All I ask of you is that you'll take your aim

If I can see the sun come up above the morning mist anew
I could give away a piece of me and know it's killing you
The tragedies that took place in this home that I once knew
Will remind me of the things I feared, and how I found out the truth
Not a thing.
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