Darkness cracked by the beam of
my halogen lamp, the glow illuminates
the emptiness within the night.

The blood drips from the ***** of
my fingertip, creating the shape of
a distorted rose on the dusty table.

The tip of my tongue stings
from the poignant taste of acrimony;
the depth of tender thoughts muted.

The words I desperately need remain
hidden within the convolution; speechless,
the silence wreaks havoc on my eardrums.

My pen is dry, the ink evaporated
from the inconsistent flow of diction;
these infatuations longing to touch the paper.

There is nothing so, I quietly wait.

She was a daughter of the Caribbean, a newborn star; she was the image of paradise before the fall. We met in the hallowed season, death haunted our days.  Her mind vexed by the turmoil; her spirit reaching for closure within the downpour of tears.  She touched me in ways unimaginable; this beautiful soul wishing I could see past her youth.  A grown woman wanting to spend her days with an old man.  I will never know what she saw in me; all I can remember is the joy of her hello and the absence of her goodbye.

The morning smells like rain…again.
There are some things that remain in question,
mostly bitter-sweet sentiments
masked as joy and happiness;
it is funny how the straight and narrow
road is really a circle,
the perceptions of progress are illusions
because the accompanying footprints are different.
Here I am taking steps back only to reach
the same plateau because hope kissed me
sensually on the lips;
different is not always better
just as love is not eternal

Raindrops…
The moisture on the window;
the weekend huddled beneath the blankets,
the only thing separating what is real
and what is perceived.
The constant tapping against
the glass is a beautiful symphony within the psychology.
I followed my heart towards the pit,
staring into the opening and catching the glitter
from a fading light.

Sunlight breaks through these gray clouds…
The less we speak, the more we learn;
there is an unsettled situation
within the correlation.
Something is amiss,
I cannot put a finger on this
point of quiet contention.
To remain in this abandoned shelter,
this place of insanity,
is the only hope of weathering
these frigid temperatures.
My lips are numb and my heart is cold;
I can see the sun and that’s all that matters.

Another night spent tossing-and-turning; hot and cold sensations keeping pace with the quiet commotion. Not sure what I am wrestling with; my mood is fine but there is a feeling of twisted darkness within.  I am aware of the turmoil this season brings; seeing the pieces of animosity gathering as a pile of dust around me. I promised to end the plight of expectations, this lie brought contentment and unconscious abrasion; the attempt to write my way into the light seems futile.

Gray skies poised for rain yet, not a drop falls.

My thoughts, planted
within our future;
this vision of fulfillment
taking away the pain of absence.

Your silhouette wrapped
in the sheets of a warm goodnight;
the hope of tomorrow resting
upon my chest.

My imaginations
once sustained me;
paling in comparison
to your soul next to mine.

As you sleep,
I am listening to the desires
within your dreams.

The breaths of your emotions,
in harmony, with the early
morning rain.

My heart beats with joy;
this great delight when
you will say to me,
"Good morning."

I walked through the empty lot
noticing the depression of time;
street lamps flickering within the subtle
breeze of the late evening.

My hands were numb from the cold and ash;
these pockets lost their warmth.
The sky forgot to welcome
the moon; it’s light lost behind
the cloudy indigo.

Something touched my face, the moist
drops of condensation; nighttime mist
upon this abrasive skin. The feeling
brought my lips towards a smile, because
someone new was at the horizon.

Faint words of familiar sentiments falling
upon my heart and mind; the language
conjured spirits from my past.

I looked for the bottle
but all I could find was regret.

So much confusion within the chaos;
my flesh burns from the sting of scorpions,
they cannot understand what I've been through
nor will they understand what I am
putting them through.

It's beginning to feel like winter.