I
Feel close or run
(our echoing is escape
not candlelight magic)
a renegade lulled them so deep
(touching sleek song,
foever in fear)
a blooming kiss, an endless beach
(imagine, suddenly)
the imperfect:
the feathering hope that sways and beats
in nervous possibility
(that illuminates everything that might)
II
You may resonate summer
strumming, wondering, yearning,
with gentle guilt beating open toward
uncertain, where strayed smoke appears engulfing
only them.
Her sleek, royal mine,
her sleek, raven mile
deny them your secret-
stay a hot, shut vine,
be a rolling wind;
uncharted,
without a dagger to breath through.
III
Rocking blue light
bared our language
raw
if screaming is showing
then these sweating seas
are rocking and pulsing
with nerves.
Your body is a flooding summer,
cold creek, navy blue kind of Royal.
Your journals are meaningless,
the alphabet has spoiled.
Confessions melt to wax in the heat
and you’re starting to confuse hope with home.
IV
Unwind,
entwined,
gladly waiting.
A dry, gilded sorrow sings to pierce again.
They hesitate; warm,
unfilled,
as silent-radiant boy lips
(who give us whiplash,
who deny our gaze)
empty, quickly collapse
into a slight withering, glow
and contemplate the fragments of us left.
V
Imagine a small, gold
moon lost within
the raging, rising winter
calling through the dark
for our touch
together our form trembles
in beat with the too-spun silver chain
swinging between your kiss
or me.
My catching heart
your rolling eyes
a false enemy with a veil
to rouse the rising world.
I wonder how desperate and passionate
spread through my newfound blaze
so hidden by certain eternity.
What I feel-
it’s
entirely breathtaking.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
I
Feel close or run
(our echoing is escape
not candlelight magic)
a renegade lulled them so deep
(touching sleek song,
foever in fear)
a blooming kiss, an endless beach
(imagine, suddenly)
the imperfect:
the feathering hope that sways and beats
in nervous possibility
(that illuminates everything that might)
II
You may resonate summer
strumming, wondering, yearning,
with gentle guilt beating open toward
uncertain, where strayed smoke appears engulfing
only them.
Her sleek, royal mine,
her sleek, raven mile
deny them your secret-
stay a hot, shut vine,
be a rolling wind;
uncharted,
without a dagger to breath through.
III
Rocking blue light
bared our language
raw
if screaming is showing
then these sweating seas
are rocking and pulsing
with nerves.
Your body is a flooding summer,
cold creek, navy blue kind of Royal.
Your journals are meaningless,
the alphabet has spoiled.
Confessions melt to wax in the heat
and you’re starting to confuse hope with home.
IV
Unwind,
entwined,
gladly waiting.
A dry, gilded sorrow sings to pierce again.
They hesitate; warm,
unfilled,
as silent-radiant boy lips
(who give us whiplash,
who deny our gaze)
empty, quickly collapse
into a slight withering, glow
and contemplate the fragments of us left.
V
Imagine a small, gold
moon lost within
the raging, rising winter
calling through the dark
for our touch
together our form trembles
in beat with the too-spun silver chain
swinging between your kiss
or me.
My catching heart
your rolling eyes
a false enemy with a veil
to rouse the rising world.
I wonder how desperate and passionate
spread through my newfound blaze
so hidden by certain eternity.
What I feel-
it’s
entirely breathtaking.
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