Have you ever
Held a wineglass,
But seen a rose?
Sullen prose above my waist,
The grace below
A fevered waste.
Deflowered from that wine,
Irony beats in time.

A river flowing against its course
As if to floss
Its rare peculiar uncanny ingenuity
A notable case study of ambiguity.

An estranged lover unceremoniously
Literally butchering his offspring mercilessly
In cold blood
For having been dragged through the mud.

The undercurrents of change overriding
Entrenched seemingly myopic tendencies which aren’t binding
Causing irrevocably reversible state of affairs
Care not to be caught in the crosshairs.

A hopelessly optimistic romantic
Head over heel in love with the mystique
Aura of eccentricity effortlessly effused by
Her, she indeed worth a try.

Myriad circumstantial conundrums
That is cause of the inevitable humdrum
So characteristic of life
Answers a trifle few and the lackluster enthusiasm rife.

two love interests
feelings are mixed
one love to release
one love to keep

I let you into a very exposing and vulnerable side of my life.
I am very fragile and sensitive.
The more you claim I am perfect, the less real I feel.
The less human I feel.

Perfect is not real.
Perfection is a perception.
I don’t want to be labeled as anything that is not me.

I don’t like it.
I will not allow it.
I’d rather choke than swallow
Those thick sticky words.
For once I’m happy to be
A picky eater.

I am not a body.
I am a soul.
Words I have said before,
But now found myself shouting
Loud enough to have you back away
Far enough to collect some space.

Your thoughts about me
Are not reality, just a fabricated fantasy
Created in your head.
I am not a made up character
Or this fleeting entity, like a fairy;
I don’t need claps to exist in this world.
I don’t need your beliefs for me live.

My skin has been hurt again and again.
Through my experiences,
My layers have thickened
Now calloused, and stiff
Which is why I’m self-conscious
Of holding hands.
And you’re not the man
Whose fingers I want to be laced with
Or tracing the tracks of my spine.

I am a hand written letter.
Never delivered
With an unlisted address
And words still unfinished.
Save your kiss, lips, and spit
For a different envelope
Don’t spend your pennies
Or waste your postage
On the mail that will come back to you.

I am free.
I am air.
Limitless, boundless, and ubiquitous.
Toxic if overdosed.

I change, never staying the same.
I circulate the room, and cannot be contained.
And **** the day you dare even try.

Watch me overflow, and spill all over the floor
Creating a sloppy mopless mess
Oozing through the edges
Seeping between the cracks.

I will not be held down
Wings clipped
And cage nailed to the ground.
I will not be suffocated.

I am air.
Yet, I cannot breathe.

Stumbled in
mind & soul
I had no idea
that night would
would lead
to shattered scene**

#micropoetry