In the silence,
A scream came forth from nowhere.
Not prompted by anything or anyone.
It startled me, at first,
As the tremors reverberated in my body, still.
I pondered its origins;
A groan of all the screams I've suppressed
Leaked out:
Layered losses claiming their voices.
With their release, came space,
And grace…and strength and power.
I'll harness, to use in this hour.

when I hear the wind I wonder about the tales
in the chestnut flowers, they refute their ideal
yet even stones need hope to bloom
history recycles its magnitude,
confuses its layers, refurbishes illusions
with every breath we make history

on these streets I look people in the eye
their frozen smile land in my bones
we look at each other with surprise
this is who we are, for real
sealed wounds are spinning a pain in transition
who can admit the exploitation of dreams,
the violence of lies, the competition of shadows
sitting crossed-legs with eyes closed
what we know we are;  what we don't know we are too
we have such a hunger for the food of life hidden
in a lotus flower

Love is a ******* traitor.

I would do anything for you
If you came to me bleeding
or crying,
broken,
wronged,
I would right it for you
I would fight to decimate
the low down ***** *******
who dared to lay a finger on
the soul of
my sister.

One day we’ll be together again
and you’ll say what you say
and I’ll react or recind

but love is a ******* traitor
*******
I don’t have it in me to refuse
I’ll be there for you until I die
But I won’t suffer your abuse.

Today,
there was pain
and work
and realization.

Tomorrow will be the same.

I’ll allocate any deviation
to be microwaved into tea or stew
and consumed by a select few.

The contents of my self
are delicate and subject to change,
are easily manipulated and fragile and strange.

So I lay it all out
And walk away.
Tomorrow is another day.

We don't fight
With fists or guns
But with words;
Ideas, ideals and puns.

The air sagged,
Like an old and ***** blanket.
If mothballs had set in it their tapestry,
That may have been a delight, 
And a slight respite from the 
Grey and wrinkly clouds that 
Stared dreary-eyed offering
No hope but empty promises:
You will be fruitful again!
When?!

It was always September
when the stars remembered us—
how we lay beneath them,
two silhouettes painted on God's canvas
hearts flickering like flames beneath hearth

You wore red that night—
not crimson, not scarlet,
but the kind of red that feels like home.
Your sweater sleeves brushed mine,
your smile was like glaring at the sun ,
and your eyes held the kind of warmth
that made me forget to breathe.

We found our mound,
the one with the crooked tree
and the half-forgotten swing,
and we looked up—
just as the sky began to bloom with fire.

"Shooting stars!!", you screamed.
“Quick. Make all the wishes you ever wanted.”

I made a wish with each falling spark—
one for the way your hand found mine,
one for the way your shoulder fit perfectly against me,
one for the hush that wrapped around us
like a promise still unfolding.
But hidden beneath them all,
tender and trembling and true,
was the one I never dared to say aloud...

And then—
you turned to me
with stars in your eyes
and that smile
like the last light of the sun,
and said,
“I’ve been wishing too.”

You leaned in,
the world held its breath,
and when your lips met mine,
the sky seemed to applause in silent bursts of light.

Of all of the stars that fell,
only one of my wishes came true:
That you were falling for me too.


Erennwrites

The throb you feel or you don't
Bounces off of some of
The things
That you want
But then again
There's the general malaise
That imagines
With no evidence
The things that you crave.

I want to look into your gentle eyes
And drown in them for days and nights at all!
I miss your eyes, where spring lies close.
I'm sad for them, I'm melancholy whole.

My body's darted with a shiver all at once,
When I begin to think of your strong hands.
I know, you'll never come again, my loving
And I will have only my deepest sense.

I miss your chiselled and your noble profile,
Your captivating and so sensual lips.
I wish I could hand back again even on one day
Your blessed soft voice, just though in my sleeps.