Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2012 Molly
Canaan Massie
Close is never close enough,
Forever is much too short,
"Love" is an insufficient term,
To describe you and I.

We are forever embedded in each other,
Whether physically or not,
You will always be part of me,
The best part.

Your fingertips etch memories,
Into my skin.
Your lips engrave my body,
With nothing less than perfection.

You rooted yourself,
In a place much deeper than my heart.
And blossomed more quickly,
Than I ever could have imagined.

Your words linger in my mind,
More often than my own thoughts.
And your image is constantly,
Replaying itself on repeat.

Your smile is the brightest light,
I have ever seen.
A much needed remedy,
In such a dark, dark world.

Your hair is entangled,
In my broken heart.
Keeping it sound,
And wound together.

Your eyes see things in me,
That I knew not to exist.
As mine see things in you,
That were once thought a myth.

"Love"? No...
That term is insufficient.
This requires a new term.
For we have created something new.

Nothing means anything anymore.
Because you are everything.
And everything is you.
Therefore, everything is mine.

So yes... let us sift through the ashes.
I will follow you through revelations.
I will burn the world myself,
If that's what you ask of me.

Close is never close enough,
Forever is much too short,
"Love" is an insufficient term,
To describe you and I.
Did not do her justice and probably never will.
 Nov 2012 Molly
JJ Hutton
skyscraper man on seattle time
looms in the corner of swan lake and fry
untouchable denim untouchable blueblack plaid jacket
     he's put together with clothespins
     he's put together with stipends
     he's crammed between taxi cab book ends
skyscraper man on seattle time
stoic as the jet engines roar by
all his friends are magazines all his friends currentbrief
     he's got a little future
     he's got a few dimes
     he's got no father to call out the lies
skyscraper man on seattle time
watches smog children kick ***** on concrete
vulnerable under trees writes his novels in purpleink
     he's married once before
     he's read crucifixion lore
     he's returned his money to the store
skyscraper man on seattle time
looking through spectacles of ***** and brine
the rain falls hard the breeze sweet on the leaves
     he's emptying the soul of modern rock n' roll
     he's emptying the tray of ashed thought
     he's emptying the bank account cold
skyscraper man on seattle time
sheds crinkled skinmemory like the cicada
a twin-sized deathbed deathbed in apt. 203
     he's nothing.
     he's ever.
     he's happened.
skyscraper man on seattle time
carbon copied and eternal as saltwater as rust
invisible and tapping at the runrain window
     he's nothing.
     he's ever.
     he's happened.
skyscraper man on seattle time
climbs himself to the cosmos lightheaded perfection
ethereal visions of fullbloom love and legacy with measure
     he's nothing.
     he's ever.
     he's happened.
 Nov 2012 Molly
Canaan Massie
"I love you,"
Is not a greeting, nor sign of affection.
For these things have limits,
And Love is limitless.

Not bound by time,
Nor reality.
Love has no boundaries.
Nor explanations.

Love is not bound by age,
Nor species,
Nor Gender,
Nor words.

"I love you,"
Is not a greeting, nor sign of affection.
For these things have limits,
And Love is limitless.
 Nov 2012 Molly
N N Johnson
if the bottoms of our feet
were repeatedly coated in black ink,
then someone at least would start so see
how much I fall behind.

like the shadow that begins
side by side but slowly lengthens
stretches, pulls away from
your footsteps, I fall behind.

the distance between our strides
leaves clues of one stronger, one weaker,
and it's unclear if the person ahead is faster
or the other is just slower and falls behind.

if i could paint my feet to see
the difference in our gaits that lead
you to be so ahead of me, I would
but I could never stop to look back
without falling behind.
 Nov 2012 Molly
JJ Hutton
Ogunquit
 Nov 2012 Molly
JJ Hutton
South Maine
the white beaches of Ogunquit
where the tide shrinks the shoreline
where the mud is made new
Lucy corkscrews her toes
digging deeper and deeper
What are you doing sweetheart
though she's my niece I pretend she's my daughter
I want to hit bottom so I can climb to the top
though she's four she's wiser than me
squawking seagulls float above
an orange glow seeps off the edge of the clouds
as they hustle west
Josh
Yes
Is the ocean forever
Of course I say as a wave washes her feet clean
*I wish we were oceans
 Nov 2012 Molly
Canaan Massie
O star...

How you mock me.
Away from earthly oppressions.
Safe, is thee,
Hung home in heaven.

I envy your distance,
From this place we call earth.
You feel no resistance,
No pain, and no hurt.

For your father, an immortal,
And your mother owns all.
You feel no torture,
Only wished upon when you fall.

O star,
How you mock me.

How dost thee shine so bright?
And if thou art blue,
You still emulate light.
Next page