in my deep slumber,
I roused to the rumble of thunder;
with dense showers soaking me tender,
Streaks of light sparkling like cinder,
roaring with dander, down came
that S RUCK *my fence.
Art of typography.
your smile breaks me.
it shakes the dust off my bones, only
to shatter them into a million pieces. when i'm
trembling, the thought of you warms me back to
life, only to **** me when i no longer sense the ice
snaking up to my throat. you twisted my heart
(without trying...without. even. knowing.)
and the wrinkles of it peeled right off.
i don't know what i was thinking
when i let this mess begin,
but i do know that
i never want
First attempt at at a concrete/shape poem. Yay...or nah?
I love it when you type letters
with your fingertips
on my skin
backspacing my faults
and joining my freckles
letter by letter
until you’ve created a new word.
you discover a new universe in the obscure abyss
and mark that with an asterisk.
In the morning,
you would press kisses
between the parenthesis of my smile
and bite ellipsis
on the crook of my neck
so that I would wake with your watermark.
I still remember that day
when you assured me
you are just a space bar away and
I am a story you will never finish writing.
that you will be filled with caesuras but no period.”
Lawrence, it’s um, doll…
or i see, i met a con
LOL. Rant... It's um....
The words inside
The frame of aesthetic perfection
Every letter, every space, in its rightful place.
But who is right to proclaim
The words beautiful
The image implied
Through a painting much unseen
Every word, every break, something that I make.
But where can there exist
Elegant phrase, which
I want you to see all the stories I’ve written for you
But I’m scared the characters will chip and fall apart
Serifs sharp like broken glass
Are you still breathing
while you drown in me?
There is a curve
In soft vowels that create you
and any letter that drops below the baseline, like a sinking rock in the murky shores
My words more often than not drift like wood at sea
Part of something once
But no longer whole
And crushed constantly by blue waves of doubt
That pushes and pulls me
Into every direction
Every lighthouse I've ever seen
has never shined bright enough
to guide me home
Poem with typographical diction (??). I wrote this piece a while ago and have edited it a million times.
— The End —