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Dré Feb 7
My words lack lustre—
Incongruous cornucopia thoughts,
Trapped beneath delicate finger pads.
Afraid to rise and fall,
Shackled to Q-W-E, I-O-P.

They lift,
I hit keys like lightning strikes,
Loathing materialization,
Which fails to break ground,
That so desperately needs breaking.

One lightning strike,
A whole forest alight.
Ancient giants burn to the ground,
Gracefully accepting defeat—
Their remnants, fertile soil.

We must learn from the trees,
Who of their own volition turn to ash,
That old paradigms collapse,
Novel systems take their place
The phoenix there will rise.

My words lack lustre—
I fear they won’t be heard.
Drowned out by deeper voices,
Pulverized by hands that
Fit both of mine in one of theirs.

I trade high-heeled femininity,
Never step on any toes
**** that. I stomp bare feet on the ground,
Rattling the Earth to her core,
Each step perhaps, could make her feel less alone.
Dré Jul 2019
The candle flickered the way his eyes had done that night.
A slight interruption in a stillness, composed of perpetual motions.

I found him there, where certainty ends and surrender begins;
a space we created together but on our own.

Sovereignty in our togetherness saw fear dissipate with pride
when he held out his hand that night.
Dré Jul 2019
Take my hand, my love
Let me assist you
I wouldn’t want you to fall
upon dismounting
Your horse
is so very high
Can you hear me from up there?
In that ivory tower, your new home
sick. trick.
A sudden drop
could be devastating. captivating
I should know
you didn’t have me at hello goodbye
hit me like a tonne of bricks
sick. tricks.

Drop off my dry cleaning,
shouldn’t have worn silk
Muddy footprints on my shoulders
where you stood
Did you forget
how you got up
there? glare empty.
You feared******* nights
are the worst
dreams. screams.
the laser beams
in your eyes,
my expeditious demise.

I feel.
You win,
You’re the king.
Sting. No happy ending.
I didn’t want you
Until I did
Stop. You’re making a scene
Making me a fiend
Not your queen.
Cut me down
Climb up now higher
Fire. You’re scared
Can you hear me from up there,
in that ivory tower you call home?
You love the view, don’t you?

Silence is golden but,
Please tell me more lies
Whisper your sweet nothings
Bring me back to life
Dreams. Screams.
laser beams in your eyes
cut me down with those
laser beams.
in. your. eyes.
I love the pain
Northern skies,
A brilliant disguise.
Get out of my mind,
Trojan horse. Remorse
this is my fault

I love it when you talk *****
But go on,
**** me with reticence
Bite my neck, pull my hair
Fill me up with doubt
I bite your soul
Pull, no rip, your heart out.
of your chest
You’re weak.
Can’t even speak
I’m Rapunzel, evicted.
You just wanted my tower
How can I blame you?
It’s got the best view.
Dré Jul 2019
We love each other broken,
and maybe that’s our curse.
I catch my reflection in glassy shards of you,
scattered across countless hotel room floors.

relentless reminders
of the things we love
and can’t stand.

Everything and nothing.
Together and alone.
Here and there.
I can’t be in this body;

Exit stage left when bloodied soles
remind me of my inability to make you whole.
Imminent failure lingers over me;
a wet blanket putting out a fire
that was never meant for fighting.
Dré Jun 2019
He is the muse.
A constant variable,
A short fuse.
Absence unbearable,
The great unknown.
Love, out-

He is the bass.
A deeper vibration,
A song written in space.
A sober libation,
Divine flaws.
Cue the

He is the sun,
But above all, the rain.
A planned hit-and-run,
Un-navigable terrain.
Six feet, three inches.
Distraught, fresh

He is the ebb,
But also the flow.
A tangled web,
Fresh footprints in snow.
A new way to break.
The most deliberate

He is the rose,
The rose-less thorns.
Interminable prose,
Angel-grown horns.
Tables now turned.
Bridges skillfully

He is the mirror,
She finally faced.
An image drawn clearer,
Adoration misplaced.
Ego crumbled.
Three words,
Dré Jul 2019
Oxytocin lovers is really all we are,
for how could we claim to love each other
when to love is to hold onto collapsing shells,
sustained only by the reliance upon one another.

I could only really love you whole,
for half-empty,
I would surely expect you to fill me
with all the things I fail to give myself.
Dré Jul 2019
I warned him though,
of my affinity for destruction

That I chase thunderstorms,
and am the most distraught in idyllic settings

That I burn beautiful things down,
Simply to watch them burn

And that I will run from him,
if he ever feels like safety

I warned him
but he couldn’t see destruction,
in the way I spoke of poetry and the stars.

— The End —