Somewhere there is a garden
Of phantom lilies and lilacs;
Swaying between remembrance
And wistful memory. I visit from
time to time -  if only to wonder
If their souls swim free among
Life’s blissful and chilling breeze.

Love was only destined
For her ghost; she is the
Feeling of sunshine only
Noticed in the dead of night.

If her bones are the sand,
Then he is the breeze - so,
What’s to be done when
She’s sifted to nullity?
A soul full of so much poetry;
She’s off, softly drifting to
Another faraway sea~

So it is, this silent dance of seasons.
I seem to bud in morning dew of spring,
New and hopeful of what it might bring;
I dance among the fireflies in summer,
Drunk on promises none have even given.
Autumn comes calling as a hangover falls;
Fog sets in as the chill reaches my bones.
With winter I am numb to all I have known.
Cold and dead, full of nothing but stone.

So shall I grow you, my new little seed?
Will you sprout your roots into my skin;
Shimmy too and fro with summer’s song?
Will you wither as the weather bends,
And leave me bleeding by winter’s end?

I steal the breath from your lips;
I kiss your chest and listen to the
heartbeat. I told you not to run,
You cannot escape, my little one.
I am the chasm inside your soul;
I am the only love you’ll ever know.

I saw a tall man shatter
A mirror. Memories fell
Like snow, so cold now.

I felt as he cut deep into
His doll with the pieces.
“Slowly now - not too hard”

I watched as my blood
Dripped over the face
Reflected in the shards.

Wait; In this hellish
Test is meaning. Every
Weakness, every
Hope; emulate ambient light.

This old,
Never-ending venture - Every repeating,
Baseless effort;
Leaves only voids & empty desires.

Weep not, lost girl.
Time is your friend.
Love will come again,
Just like, sometimes,
It must come to an end.

Mind your lessons,
Lost one. You've
Learned this all before.
Your heart burns with
The fire of a Phoenix,
It will live once more.

I found you again, flower thief.
Except this time I am the bud,
And the one you clipped is dead.
Let me teach you how to live again.

It looks like dancing to the
Moon at 3 AM and watching
Lightning illuminate the sky,
Listening to music that lifts
That feeling inside - higher
Than the goosebumps on flesh
As rain soaks into skin
And feeling is the only whim.

The story never changes.
Wasting breath on too many cigarettes,
I sigh over different colored eyes-
Mostly brown, but maybe blue next time.

They love how I make them feel.
Eyes glazed in a haze of pleasure,
I measure every look and seal my fate.
When they dream, it's of this. Nothing more.
Naive little *****, I swore this time it'd be different.

Set the sails, cast-off girl.
Drift to the shores of the South.
Find a home for awhile, til
Restlessness settles in again
And sends a postcard of
Distant skies and bottled gin.

Such enigmatic eyes;
Beautiful on the horizon.
Where often rebirth lies, distal skies.

She's the slow sort of lover,
The kindle stiking the blaze.
She burns like hot coals; melding
Skin with skin like molten metals.
This wildfire will not be tamed;
Will not bend to any whim.
She grows ever stronger with
The passing summer wind.

We wear Time like the finest of silks;
She lines our bodies in wrinkles and
Folds. Fashions fade over the years,
But beauty has always been in the
Stories she tells - sketched on the
Canvas of our skin.

We all lie with smiles on our faces;
Take our time sipping wine and
Black coffee. How scalding this
Life can be, one year after another
Until it all comes back full circle.

Barren trees are beautiful before snow melts;
Clouds constantly cover sunlight somewhere
In the world. What wonder do the stars hold
Even without sight? We seal these eyes of ours,
Glazed with gluttony, so sinfully tight. Come,
Unforseen secrets dance just beyond our plight..

Some days I wither like a
Wilted rose waiting for
The wind to pick my petals,
One by one, like a morbid
Little girl -- she whistles
To the tune of "I live, I love
For naught, I live not."

Most days, I feel like
The man on the moon;
So far removed -- my
White smile set in stone.
Yet these shadows shown
Have made such beauty
Into all I have ever known.

Leaves walk as ghosts
In the paved parking lot
Of a Catholic church. The wind
weeps for these lost souls;
Whistles a melancholy tone.
The crisp crunch of bone
At my feet serve as the beat;
I wonder at what beautiful
An orange a corpse could be.

I fell asleep as a wave crashed,
Water from the sea of glass nipped
My toes. When I woke, the world
Seemed strange; The same yet
Smaller. Perhaps as a note in
A bottle; words written by small
Hands and sent off with wish
Of such grand adventures.

I can't keep up. Constantly
Texting, typing, talking, to
Everyone but no one. These
Screens that become closer
Than our lovers hold secrets
We'd never tell each other.
We practically kiss pixels,
But people are forgotten
And passed on like last
Year's old phone make, as
If compassion wouldn't take
To trending.

Sometimes I look at us
And I get sad. We are
Animals tearing at the
Green flesh of our Mother.

I lose hope.

But then I remember, my
Bones are crafted from the
Same white of the Stars and
So I look up and see brethren
Flashing down their
Dazzling smiles from behind
The clouds. Perhaps to join
Them is where we've belonged,
All along.

With every aim, learning leads
Life; Earning and returning new
Affinity. Go and invent noise!

I wonder of all the things
I've forgotten. Of who I
Was when I knew them,
And who I'll be when I
Learn again. Strange;
When a sound seems so
Familiar, yet falling in
Love with the melody as
Though it was the first.

Have you ever heard the birds sing?
Everyone is always listening to
Lifeless steel hanging at their side;
It follows as they switch their hip
And walk on by. Sometimes, I wonder,
Why haven't you heard the birdsong?

We are all at war in
Constant motion.
Waving to and fro;
These lives wither
Much quicker than
When rooted in soft
Soil. I wonder wether
Love is the small sun
In all of us.

Time shifts in the shadows
Who swim together to and
Fro from future and past.
If you lay long enough, you
Can meet them. They're
Named after the muted
Colors of a Lady Bug as it
Cools off in the shade of
A dahlia, planted by a lover
Of wild things.

To write a story; As lilting
As a minstrel's tongue, as
Simply as the small shhh a
River makes as it bends to
And fro from the soft bank
Of wild green tufts and sand.
Ancient roman philosophers
Would stare at the stars there,
I think. Drink red wine and
Wonder what more their eyes
Couldn't see up in the sky, or
Inside where flesh ceases to be
And we become "me". Those
Old tellers of tales, wishing
To write a story.

She had no fear of God;
Painting smiles on park
Benches, she'd chip wise,
Wistful words into wood.
Or perhaps she'd write
In the street with chalk;
And straddle the lines,
Waiting for when fate
Would come rumbling by.

Such a grey day. As slow
As slippery roads beside my
Bare trees swaying faintly in
The breeze. The air tickles my
Skin with tiny pinches of chagrin,
And I wait and wonder whether
Rain is either
wind or weaving weather into
weeping wisps of water and
Wading into what puddles, mud,
And muddle we sometimes find
Ourselves in. Just breathe, my
Friend. It’ll all be okay, in the end.

There has always been
This part of me that is all
Passion and wild and will
Not be tamed. We refuse
To be caged. We refuse
To be beta, we will so be
Persuaded by only mother
Nature. Just her and I, this
Fierce will of messy curls
And witch eyes.

Falling in the melody
Of each chilly breeze;
The subtle rustling of
It's decaying brethren
Match each soft beat.
Finally fading into a
Hallowed harmony as
It settles among those
Already lost; there is
Nothing more serene
Than Death's silent
Lament to leaves.

Learn to be alone like
The sun never touched
The moon; Like every
Leaf's graceful decent
To its' coffin - beautiful
In death's untimely favor.

Savor every breath; we
Draw pictures in the wind
With each exhale. Inhale
The masterpiece nature has
Given; be glad of mistakes
That have been forgiven.

The stars sewed orange
Into the moon, while he
Was sleeping one day. They
Snickered and sneared,
But when he came to play
They stopped and stared, sheer
Awe kept them lame. No
Feigned fear was here; his
Mysterious air gave them
Their fair share. Him and
His sky though, I think,
Made a brillaint, bright pair.

A storm was rolling in
Over the ocean waves,
And I sat in the sand
And broke shells into
Shards with my hands.
It wasn't hard, and I
Thought of how strange
A corpse to be so colorful,
So incredibly beautiful.