#cyclones
I live in a house,
that is not my home.
With pictures of smiling faces
that are not my own.
Surrounded by figures
but feel so alone.
So very vacuous
is this iron throne.
I live in a house
that is not my home.
A silence so heavy,
it hurts.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
I will place the promise of tomorrow
on your lips.
They will first taste of cyclones in my breath.
Then they will taste of desperate dying breath.
The will taste of light and of blindness.
They will taste of the dreams that slip from your eyes.
They will taste of the skin that
we are yet to grow.
They taste of things
that we are yet to lose.
I will place the promise of tomorrow
on your lips,
that will soon be your yesterday.
My promise will be memory of
passing trains and fading love.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
Cyclonic is your kind of adjective;
I suppose I was born to love storms
like you.
I could never really keep my hands to
myself. Nor my mouth. Or my words.
I love you like hurricanes love destruction
and mornings love reckoning.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC