I've often receded
with these tears, back into
shadows of past moments,
digging into scars,
redrawing the wounds,
lifting a heaving chest
to drag it back down
with the setting sun.

Coming into your light
had been a forged destiny,
but I'll never know
what I ever meant,
when arms are broken,
being unable to fix
what is lost.

When I said to you
I'll never float apart
from your once-yearning
distant heart,
I felt it in the call
of birds in the trees,
as I allowed myself
to walk forward,
even if it led me
over the edge.

Here I am
to drink in stillness,
to remember you
in your frozen state.
I released a hand,
as you are at peace,
as I am here
to let go of a petal
for your cemented,
sealed place.

I'm done with the rain
it keeps whispering her name
every thumpy splash breaking
beading down this window,
I'm drenched in her fain
like the wind cries and the birds sing
as does the whizzing hum of a bee wing
muffs the mist off the white flowery vine
brings me around into the fruit of her smile
one of so many wordful days I felt as hers
nuzzled to her pink fuzzy sweater
the way her fluffy socks rubbed up my legs
as our eyes stare with pebble ripples
my nights a sweltering hell in this drought of her

For my English III class
             Mr. P
had sprawled                        out
S
       T
    A
                  C
       K
S
       of books       in t h e front      of his
                 classroom.
He had a short lecture and introduction to blackout poetry, then
everyone shot out of their chairs to find a page they wanted

I was the last to go up, the first book I found had a beautiful picture and I decided to use it

                             Months later
the assignment was completed and in the gradebook, he said if we wanted we could keep them

Now as I lay in my room at 2:34 AM on a
  Friday I sit and think about it.
   It wasn't long ago when I created it,
       but it also had been enough time for me to leave the public school entirely to could be                    
                          homeschooled
The­ only thing I regret was not saying goodbye to him
       in person


                    And getting that poem

I would turn into anything
If he's mine
I would break myself
And bloom flowers
Everywhere he touches
Even my scars
Would flow out honey
Him..
Even hearing his name
Feels like a war
While he's a smelt of revolution
And he's my favourite regret.

What is all the demise count as
When i stand near you
When the day ends
Sprawling near you
You are all i wish to be mine
A picture with you
Which we can look at together
Warmth of your hand
Around my neck
You are all i wish for
my love

I've built a raft,
waiting for the stars
to come out from
a universe that breathes
emptiness over this
nameless ocean.

I've been watching
the letters become one
intoxicating promise,
while I've searched
for resolve,
under the doubt.

When I write,
shrouded in silence,
I have been merged
in surrounding white.
I have sunken
this form of mine
in pages, for surrender
to be how I remember.

Losing time,
not wishing for recovery
when it will stop this heart
from chasing a different,
absent beat.

An hour hand
holds the minute hand,
severing itself into pieces,
while the second hand
reveals moments I have stolen,
under a solid blue sky.

Lust
is l(ove) (st)reet
without
you

Lust is
Lost
without
you

Lust is
life with
"I" (f)eeling (e)xcited

Lust is
flexible
but never
a sin
until
it is
with
(u)

What ***** is that
poets don't ghost
because they
can't
un-write