Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Seanathon Sep 2019
You strengthen me
Stretch me tall in fond pursuit
And call my waking trees to move with subtle hints

Familiar as the folding sound
Between quiet rustling parchment leaves
Becoming new our newest sounds as an inkwell drawn

Like a sunlit jewel your dulcet glow
Is stumbling down a penciled path of painted memory
Colored by every season anew with the hues of you

Don’t cry when I am no more seen, my felicity
It was always and with you in mind
That you made me want to try
Painted Words Between Distant Mailboxes is built around a song, a sketch, a classic story. Separated by time and space no more. These lovers turn now, to face a new fate, having not been left alone in an empty word. "Through the long and lonely night." We persevere until the dawning bright. Shines back at us with joy.

Andrew Jun 2019
A “mailbox” is
a funny thing.
It used to be a means
of keeping in touch
with the ones that we loved—
a tool for connections
and correspondences.
What do we even have
mailboxes for now?
Stores send out coupons
for us to accumulate
goods now.
Credit card companies
send out reminders
to pay off our debts now.
Everyone’s circulating love,
but of status and wealth now.
We’ve become so consumed
with our phones, with fashion
and greed...

A. I. Myles   19 June, 2o19
I've got this
religion building up inside
I need to let go of the outside
though I know not which
voice is mine to find
I've gotta drive home
without a vehicle to ride
I've got to drive home

Where was it you sang?
I felt your low resonance
I felt you in the blood pumped
through my lungs
at one time
your breathiness
absorbed in my dreams
watching me sleep
Today, I'm gone

Today I am completely ******* gone--
I got this

— The End —