Within the torn books,
As old as the time
Lies an unveiled spell,
Vexing the barren souls.

Amidst this lost world,
Does it whisper its golden words,
Shining through the hazy air,
Those, who listens always finds their way.

And just with a touch of shredded phrases,
The once despaired sky will smile,
Will they see the moon listening to them
The once despaired sky will smile,
Looking the flowers bloom in joy
And listening the winds sing in rhythm,
Will they let the curse vex.

And when devoured to the last essence
Is when the glass will break,
Crushed into little pieces,
Perished to never be welded again.
There arises the dark foam,
Returning to the golden lines,  
But now to be blotted with red inks.
As the wood wails dews on lands.

beauty is a witch
the kiss of light, a trick
a mask, a banquet
a spell, a curse
a blessing
you

Would you sing to me? Your voice calms me like the sound of cicadas in distant summer/I listened to the album you made me over and over, the way your voice glides into the notes, weaves itself into my bones/Your hair looks so beautiful in sunlight, soft sandstone red/ I love to see you smile, your secrets behind your teeth/Get dressed up and let me show you off, wear the dress that gives you Venus de Milo shoulders/I just can’t take my eyes off you, a rare star, unbridled constellations of your eyes/ let me draw you, capture your life in this small moment, paper and pensiveness/I just want to hold you, feel the needed press of our bodies/I need you right now, you are not my breath but I breathe easier when you are here/I’ll come over to your place tonight, I know you must be tired, I see the way the world wears us, slow drips of waxen time against our skin/I found this flower in the yard, it reminded me of you, the petals delicate in their sweetness, the strength in the roots/I love your family, their warmth a hearth fire, always returned to/Would you make some art for me? I see the way you pull beauty from the wound in your side/Read me some of your poetry, what does your soul sound like?/I wrote this poem for you, you are written on my soul/I wrote a song for you, words were not enough, here is the sound of us/would you play music with me? Let the harmonies carry outside our bodies/I carry your heart with me, I carry it with me.

absent of the weight ;          
                my baited tongue, silenced                                  
lonely,
            by incision  

cut loose of my deviant given powers
i view the sporting world ;
new void cavities
         going about writhe tasks
                             of peculiar fathom

i train to cast bane                  
                  without word
wicked slight
a rupturing guesture
in place of a verbal spell

My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.

We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.

Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.

We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.

The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Harbor.