is crosses. we used to think xisses.

stab the needle .                  threaded.



stitch the cross, tie at the back three

times.                                                 cut.



start again.                 cover the surface.



it takes time and patience to be  brave;

to face the consequences, to be         so

bold.



the calculations are seven.   full days of

stitching.



xisses.                                                 crosses.



sbm.

644

You left me—Sire—two Legacies—
A Legacy of Love
A Heavenly Father would suffice
Had He the offer of—

You left me Boundaries of Pain—
Capacious as the Sea—
Between Eternity and Time—
Your Consciousness—and Me—

766

My Faith is larger than the Hills—
So when the Hills decay—
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way—

’Tis first He steps upon the Vane—
And then—upon the Hill—
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will—

And if His Yellow feet should miss—
The Bird would not arise—
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems—
No Bells have Paradise—

How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends—
Lest Firmament should fail for me—
The Rivet in the Bands

Her eyes are a metaphor,
   a conceit, fantasy

No shakespearean sonnet
   even a lyric, will suffice
   to describe the elegance she carries

Her smile, the greatest curve,
   all simile will be denied

Haikus and couplets
   even the long ones
   will not be enough

Her laughter is a song,
   a perfect harmony and melody

She is neither a hyperbole
   nor full of irony
   instead she is perfect rhyme

She is a walking poetry
   a personification of aesthetics

Almost an abstract
   unfathomable beauty
   out of the ordinary

It is easy to feel distant
At 5:55am,
My head a little sickly
My eyes like holes in snow.
Lights still out.
No history is made
Nothing yet laid out
in cold stone.
It's okay to feel alone
When you're a million
miles from home.
Hurt is just a metaphor
For paths we didn't take,
Each and every thought you have
Are just Godless mistakes.
We're unloved and empty
It's a fact you fail to see,
We're just little boats
Floating on a mighty sea.

i write
because i can
i read
because i desire dreams
i hope
because it's all i have
i don't give up
because i don't know how
i love
because of you
i live
because you need me

i live
because i need you.

Lines on pages
     Indented desires wrapped in ancient dreams
Death marching up to my wooden door

I am hiding, under a glass stained floor
     A raven plays the harp
The orchestra knows is B sharp

My hair rented and torn
     Life you see forlorn
Lines dancing on pages

Facades weary and paint thin
    A whiter shade of pale so dim
Candlelight still shines from within

Tongues embrace, passion reflected in face
     Indented ******* fall upon the plate
Of hunger, of desire, some may say even fate

Brilliant Black
By

Jude Kyrie

In a locked box
Inside a dark room
A lock of baby's hair
An old love letter
My darkest thoughts
No one can see them

Brilliant black

In a locked box
Inside a dark room
A love poem
written on a crumpled napkin.
An Empty perfume bottle
My sin
Hidden in total darkness

Brilliant black

In a locked box
Inside a dark room.
A house haunted and empty
Full of shadows
Full of pain
No one knows

Brilliant black

In a locked box
inside a dark room
My broken heart
shattered like crystal
Nobody knows
No one cares

**Brilliant black