Proverbial rod
cast into the night

With hope and longing
dangled as bait

Encapture what answers
hidden from sight

Time’s almost up,
as dawn awaits at the gate

a pretty face won't make him stay,
only words can,
but you write them all down on paper
instead of telling him anyway.
if you spoke up sooner,
if you didn't let your words strangle
themselves in your vocal chords,
maybe love would be a roar,
maybe it would be louder than the sound
of your neighbors fist hitting his wife.
maybe your love wouldn't be so silent,
as his footsteps late at night,
when he comes back stinking of anothers perfume.
you'd turn your body to face the wall,
you'd be a body of bricks,
you'd be the wall.
maybe if both your bodies entwined,
you could form fossils in bed.
and later, archaeologists could marvel
at the beauty of human heartache,
how the heart turns to dust,
and the love decays with us.

.
The looking at you
Destroys my mask
And a sun ignites
Heating the blood
That was buried
In window flesh,
Slits break, lid of eyes,
The souls’ shutter.

The breathings with you
Lays me asunder
To bedrooms starry
Where faith succumbs
Only to be reborn
In spooning after love,
The fae body spirals
In positions foetal.

The touching with us
Rakes the ghost moon
Which lies within truths
Dark as reddest rose
Rising in thorny stalk
Where treasure is sunk,
In cavities of chest,
Beat hearts shudder.
.

.
In still morning light,
There is new beginning,
Early birds so joyous,
On wings into the sky,
How the sun is painting
A paradise for my eyes.

I will wake into dream,
On this day so spectral,
I will sing with the breeze
And interpret the songs
Of birds in trees a flame,
Sailing into heavens' dawn.
.