Memories are like fireflies in the dark of her loss Where love grapples to know bounds only the spirit can cross. I experienced the intangible breath of her soul As it escaped and created this invisible hole. Her small, fleeting life showed me that I can't always hold on But precious things must be cherished even after they're gone.
A short poem about my dog, Tehya, who passed away suddenly at the age of 4.
tangible but not, this was how I painted him that I may see him everyday. As realistic as I could, soon I saw him stare back at me. But then I realized: even if his face was so close to mine, his eyes were distant, a gaze so lost. Even if my hands grazed over his, our fingers wouldn't entwine, a touch so cold. I was this close to having him by my side, but he was still so far away. You were realistic, but you weren't real.
sometimes i feel a connection with paintings, as it is with those pictures of you, wjh.
stagnant, i look to the nightlife for temporary comfort, gazing into the pseudo love, into the vacant souls. empty, i search for a piece of myself in passersby, learning from their motions, i steal fragments of truth. lustful, i plead for the chance to unveil myself, to present my skin, to be adored aggressively. but i am floating, my veins grey, my eyes opaque, my blood frozen.