a stray needle stuck within the knitted sweaters,
thick wool of dark forest green,
or that of soft spoken orange
stitched with reds and blues
of a sunset setting behind evergreens,
the swift stroke, a patch of red
and tight fitted turtle necks
to tickle the hair, the ears
worn under the brilliant cascades of snowflakes
falling, whispering, sighing as the air
shimmers with a piercing blue
and snow melting on the flushed red of cheeks
the stray needle slips from hug to embrace,
from kiss to piggyback,
pricking pain far further than spilling blood,
the crackle of pain and echo of loneliness,
the sear of rejection and haunting isolation,
so it slips unnoticed,
twinkling under the moonlight

be kind to yourself
as the tempest sweeps over
be gentle with your folly
as pain laces your spirit
be allowing of acceptance
on those days of
unimaginable pain

like stones in a pocket
the aches of the past
persist to haunt
in my waking dream

the sliver of days
morph into senseless pain
pushing love away
while all the way craving it

recoiling, I cry out for haven
far, far from the torrents of pain
I see my spirit is not of one half
but rather laced

with that of human imperfection

she leans into the wind,
feeling her gravity tilt,
the world trickle into sparks
the whistling burrows
into her ears,
the sun streaks grandiosely,
leaving glowing pockets of flesh
like gold sweetened with wine
as the warmth hits
the side of her face,
and she smiles, grinning mischievously
as gravity encases her and she falls,
head first towards the mossy, steaming earth
a cool mists roll through valleys,
and as she banks into total darkness
she climbs through only to find
her hair whipping like fire,
her muscles taught with life
and eyes bright as silver
as she soars through the skies,
finding her haven was waiting, patiently
beyond the trenches
of defeat

my blood boils,
reeling thickly through my veins
my limbs swell with red,
breath quickens and hastens
for an explosion of incoherent material,
simply permitting the emotion
to tremble deep in the marrow
of my bones like the way the earth
rumbles with exhilarating fury,
the world vanished and I'm consumed
with this parasite inside of me
and I fume and tremble,
anticipating the impeding scream
building in the hall in my chest,
its digging fingers creeping through
the cavities and pulsing throat,
and I open my mouth to shout, to scream,
yet nothing escapes...
I walk silently, the quaking of my knocking knees
and darting of my eyes
betraying the sizzling coals
boiling the red I feel
pooled in the pit of my stomach
and like spit fire, my fury collapses in
its own exhaustion,
so simmering and flickering,
I burrow into an empty shell...
waiting for my wounds to heal

I long for those
nights, those shining days
where I streaked
with such youthful
vigor