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Feb 2021 · 119
Art
Tiger Striped Feb 2021
Art
She does not shout, she’s
the color of mirror
and the shape of song.
She whispers that she loves
herself; she’s clarity
in the absence of reason,
perched on the apex of pain.
She hurts like my stomach on
my birthday,
glaring red beneath my sleepless
eyelids. She was
firstborn from darkness and sprawls
fleshly into light.
Hers is a compass with a
hidden true north,
a tapestry woven of
all love and evil.
She’s poster tack stuck to the wall,
in little shapes like a near-cloudless day.
She is all we can pretend to know,
the only thing we create and
never fully understand.
Feb 2021 · 322
If you drank burgundy
Tiger Striped Feb 2021
If you drank burgundy we’d get along better
I think;
I’d like the way it would
stain your white collar
and laugh when you couldn’t get it out.
It would sit angry against your neck and
stare at me, and
I would smile because I'd
know how it feels.
You’d think it was you who
had painted me happy, so you’d
forget it was there and I’d
know how it feels.
I would take a napkin
and wipe the crimson tracks from the
corners of your mouth,
just so I could have some
burgundy of my own.
It would sit folded
neatly in my lap and
long for your spotted collar and
I’d almost cry because I
know how it feels.
It’s too bad, really,
you and your glass of clear.
No stains and no taste
and no idea how I feel.
Jan 2021 · 123
perfect match
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
we seemed the perfect match:
i loved to talk about you
and so did
you.
Jan 2021 · 167
in another life
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
Everett, you're tired
of sleepless nights
aching lungs
girls who evaporate overnight.
You're tired of burnt Saturday evenings,
cars parked around dark corners,
staying out too late and
driving home on empty.
I would offer you a ride home,
but Everett, you make my mouth dry.
You smell like cigarettes and
look like all my mistakes.
I want to carry you, Everett,
and watch your scarred skin flush
at my touch, but I know
all too soon I’d be
carrying those same scars on my skin.
So I’ll cry with you
from the other side of the highway,
I’ll feel your albatross around my neck
and wish you the best,
but I won’t be there this time
when you decide to burn
everything that’s good to you.
Jan 2021 · 132
green thumb
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
I think you should know,
I poisoned the daisies.
I told you it was the dry soil,
that they always wilt this time of year.
You cried, but you'd never
let me see.
I knew anyway.
I knew you'd cry
I knew before
I found the pages you crumpled up
and threw away,
unforgotten in the wastebasket
and burning still with your body's heat.
In the moment,
I touched a fragment of you
from a thousand thoughts away
and realized I wanted you between my teeth -
like vengeance seeks death -
like fire craves destruction -
and it splintered me.
I couldn't help but
get stuck in your thumb.
I knew it would swell and
ache like me,
I knew you’d have something to blame for
the tear-stained pillow
and wilted flowers on your window sill.
I’m not asking you to
forgive me,
I know you never will,
which is easier
anyway.
Jan 2021 · 153
stuck
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
I find myself lost
when you move,
a drop flung
from your tear-soaked sleeve
to sizzle on the hearth.
I called my mother yesterday
to tell her I'm falling,
but not in love
just sinking in syrupy fascination
while you starve hollow farther
below.
I stir pity and romance
knowing we’re both lying purple
aching to feel love that doesn’t bruise
and I've been too scared to believe
it could be you.
Jan 2021 · 119
insomnia
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
Red midnight glares above my head
heating coals in my belly,
pushing tears from the corners of my
eyes.
Education, success, modernity
boil me - I scream to sleep cold.
Just outside the window rests
a faint outline,
the shape of my future.
A train shudders to a tired stop,
miles away
the driver
daydreams of going backwards
or getting off
I dream of today, now yesterday,
as I enter, sleepless, tomorrow: today.
Jan 2021 · 95
philosopher
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
You lost me, philosopher,
but did you read the poems?
You won’t, lest you remember
I reminded you again
your guilt is trickling down
like condensation on the fridge
onto the sticky note that says
remember to fix the fridge -
that’s a poem, isn’t it?
Or you philosophize it so;
I think you think
all my words to be poetry,
and I dangle, threaded
in your memory:
that’s why it grieves me such to
say, read the poems,
lose me not.
Jan 2021 · 170
footnote
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
Only if she isn't the moon,
roped down from heaven,
if she doesn't keep time
for your symphonies with her step
if she leaves you as you were,
instead of fever-stricken, breathless, burning
if you forget her when she's gone
and remember how to sleep without her
then you should let her go.
Jan 2021 · 104
one night
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
Wear me tonight
in your front pocket,
pressed against your chest
like a dead flower
against fresh linen.
Pull me from Eden for purpose,
and when the sun strains against the horizon,
sew my shaking roots into soil
and forget you ever knew my name.
Jan 2021 · 127
red ugly hot
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
The space between
my stomach and happy is
red ugly hot.
I feel my heart beating there,
thumping and stabbing
that is why I press my lips together
at the dinner table
and don't touch my food.
Jan 2021 · 107
10
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
10
I am empty song silence,
written without words
heavy drifting from the earth
pleasurable deterioration.
Crumble with me,
run quick on milky tabletops
sweep easy like the dust
between rug and solemn shine
fit where no one is
meant to be.
Flattened, minus one dimension
ground to fine lines and
humbled there:
rest is nothing when
time is not.
I long for nothing
when nothing is me
nothing nothing nothing
lines and zeroes
nothing.
Jan 2021 · 100
then because she goes
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
I slept with your silhouette stapled
to my eyelids again,
and woke up without you
again.
I cry thinking of
how the morning light would
skitter and fragment colors across your prismic skin.
Next to me on the couch,
you fracture my thoughts before
they reach my lips -
"I love you-"
All that escapes.
It's time to go, you tell me.
Wait, please - I try to say -
but instead
"I love you-"
again
and you go,
leave only your imprint on the pillow
again.
Jan 2021 · 106
For You and Me
Tiger Striped Jan 2021
You skimmed my words and
smiled, almost
and you thanked me
as if I'd ever write for you.
I write for the ******* the phone every night
when she’s supposed to be sleeping,
so she knows she was never in love.
I write for the girl who lost sleep for
lovers who could not love,
so she remembers to love herself first
next time.
I write for the girl who thought
she knew it all,
so that she learns just how much she
doesn't know.
I write for the girl who’s learning that she can write,
the girl pouring her soul onto paper
in scribbles and corny metaphors.
I write for the girl who
wrote for the wrong people
so she can learn to write for herself.
Nov 2020 · 66
Trust
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
Slow chimes move
like silk waves across your breath
smile yearning upward,
lifting me with it
I sail lucid and pale
wondering where reason got off.
You're the last key on the piano,
ringing softly, haloed:
redemption calls like you.
I only meant that
you blaze
like seven raging stars
you illuminate fast and holy,
trickle down your depth and widen
until everything is you.
I won't complain,
I'd cut off my tongue if you liked,
say yes til I lost my voice
even before you asked.
No, this pledge is not dangerous,
my worship not idolatrous, for you
are only ever safety and heaven
(or so I hope).
Nov 2020 · 236
Ode to Annabelle
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
Brilliant Annie,
with dried watercolor on her left thumb, and
charcoal smudge just below her elbow
who are you painting now?
Heart-shaped lips and
round, rose cheeks -
I've almost forgotten the sound of your voice -
what do you whisper in your sleep?
I remember your shadow perfectly, Annie,
I spent years frozen there,
I know its curves and the way
it moves when you laugh.
I'll admit I hated it there,
but I could never quite keep away from you.
Lovely Annie,
with guitar-calloused fingers
and songs tucked beneath your tongue,
who do you write about now?
Maybe you write about me,
like I do you,
maybe I appear in your dreams
and touch your hand,
like you do in mine.
Sweet Annie,
do you still put your index finger to your nose
and smile when you're listening?
Do you still go to concerts of bands
you barely know?
Do you still push your glasses up the bridge of your nose
and tuck your hair behind your ear
when you're thinking too hard?
Of course I shouldn't be thinking of you,
Annie,
after all these years
I'm hundreds of miles away
and you're probably smoking in a parking lot
thousands of years from thinking of me.
Beautiful Annie,
you probably don't even remember me
but I could never forget you.
Nov 2020 · 106
don't water me down
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
It’s because I’m dehydrated, isn’t it?
That’s why my knuckles bruise fast dark blue
why I jump without looking
and love angry men.
It’s why my eyes blaze crimson
and I don’t cry,
why food scrapes my throat and
why I don’t have a job.
My body must crave water,
my soul must crave success and rightness -
because they must.
But I never wanted safety,
I want to be dizzy and sick and spinning,
I want to be bone shattered and love lost.
In the end it doesn’t matter to them
what I want -
“Drink more water, dear,
put some stone in that glass heart of yours.”
Nov 2020 · 113
The Conversion of St. Paul
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
Blindly first he walked,
trampled saints with righteous soles.
Blinder still he fell, kissed dust
writhed beneath the gaze of God.
Weaker still, buckled his knees
like pride and war and dark and faint;
chaos spans his vision now.
His horse was night and wrong and run.
He had no eyes for outstretched hands.
Where is your righteousness now?
It steams with mine,
it is mist and overdue goodbye
it evaporates with myth and law.
Drought waits for monsoon,
famine waits for feast,
he waits for light.
Now it floods,
bread breaks,
scales fall from his eyes.
Now is sight and scab and scar.
See: The Conversion of Saint Paul (Caravaggio)
Nov 2020 · 100
When You Left
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
Darkness grins on the horizon
it looms and drags and coughs
I shudder and shutter my windows,
I board and splinter and nail and bruise and seal
and lock.
It's not quiet inside,
it storms in here too
it's acid rain,
it's sandstorm and blizzard
I'm igloo,
I'm fire,
I'm puddle
you echo and echo and echo
Won't you leave?
Why didn't you stay?
you echo and echo and echo
I scream and spill and slam and still -
in sudden silence
darkness seeps through
the gaps in the walls, then my pores
it's here, it's me
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine
you're gone and
so am I.
Nov 2020 · 135
What Went Wrong
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
My legs swinging at the counter
your soul sizzling in the skillet
my cheek pressed to cold granite –
is time running still?
Funny how the night turns
my palms to melted wax
they're stuck on your skin; I
dissolve.
We drift intertwined,
smoke into the detector
and
I'm sinking through the floor,
if you care.
If you don't
I'm gone,
and I was never here,
I never shuddered from your warmth
or cried into your pillow.
You could look for me but you
don't, do you?
You sit redly in the cold,
waiting for Love to love you.
I would be remiss if not to inform you
she is not I
we are not even acquaintances,
her heart and mine.
I am where you aren't searching
she is seated next to you,
waiting for you to give her
what you never gave me.
Nov 2020 · 105
tradition/modernity
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
You're dangling again, darling;
existentialism isn't your color
flush bright and laugh skywards
finish your homework and fall in love.
You rise with blithe baroquism,
I can see it in the faint
shadows beneath your eyes
as you rush windward into past.

It's alright to love the program, honey,
but if you're over-cautious
you might turn too perfect.
Just don't while I'm alive, please,
for I love the curls in your words
and the feathers in your walk.

Be me when you don't want to,
and be you when you forget what it's like.
Just remember me around the edges,
paint me in the corner below your signature
and remember my kisses goodnight.
Nov 2020 · 125
Eloise
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
Eloise, I showed you my soul
you blinked and your mouth did not move
I wanted you to smile, Eloise,
I wanted you to shed a tear
despite your efforts to keep it in
I wanted you trembling in my arms
I wanted your salty cheek against mine
What did I lack, Eloise?
You hung the moon and
left me to burn on the sun.
You pinched my heart between your teeth
and kissed another's lips.
When lightning struck my empty veins,
your laugh was thunderously clear,
your smile like a lonely star,
burning as my universe dissipated into black.
Ruin me again, Eloise,
I’ll stand and melt in your acid rain,
your scathing apathy will puddle me
as it flows from your soul into mine.
Numb me, if you would, Eloise,
so I can be like you:
so my mouth does not move
and tears no more escape my eye.
Nov 2020 · 103
coffee shop
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
"Would you like cream and sugar?"
the barista
my lips pressed together
"Yes."
You,
speaking for me
I hate cream and sugar
Nov 2020 · 63
you
Tiger Striped Nov 2020
you
Dark magic
black lace and
red lips.
I'm enchanted -
what was your name?
It falls off
your tongue like
caramel or tar
I'll drink it either way.
Saccharine sapphire
pulling me underwater,
showing me how to breathe
kohl pencil
feathered around your eyes
a punch to my stomach
I feel it in my toes.
The passion of the sun
cloaked in the moon
dangerously beautiful,
and I'm a connoisseur of hazard.
Sep 2020 · 59
projection
Tiger Striped Sep 2020
I've been circling the drain
for a while now,
screaming at you because
you look just like me.
when I get out I'll
try new things,
like papaya and cigarettes.
I won't like them but you
won't stop me anymore
I'll converse with the dead roses
on the vanity, ask them
if they knew they'd die,
from the moment they met your fingertips.
They won't say anything, because they're dead
and they're plants.
Maybe I'll become an anarchist;
I'll abandon that old idealism
of true joy and technology,
of solidarity and sovereignty
I'll try out lobotomy
and I won't wonder anymore
how you'd answer
those questions that rotted
in the back of my mind.
But before I do, I might
walk for a month,
day and night, all the way to
your house, only to find it inhabited
by someone new
and I'll be reminded that it might be time
for me to go,
and never come back.
Sep 2020 · 80
statue to an unknown god
Tiger Striped Sep 2020
you rise taller than my dreams,
grander than my hopes,
just short of reality
i don't know you, but i want you
Sep 2020 · 91
christmas day
Tiger Striped Sep 2020
i discovered love
beneath wrapping paper,
presents crumbling in my fists
it was the rug ripped
from underneath my feet,
the taste of salt and metal
the chip in my tooth
so of course i fell for you,
your adrenaline and materialism
of course i can't forget you
how could skin forget its scars?
i don't care if you broke me
or if i was always broken, and
you just made me feel whole
for one perfect day.
i was blindly searching for love, but i
only saw you
Sep 2020 · 79
mulberry st
Tiger Striped Sep 2020
mulberry street after dark
broken locks on the bridge
discarded heart-shaped locket
picnic blanket on the grass
you and i,
skipping rocks,
i think about how they
sink and settle,
destined to kiss
the murky lake's floor
you and i,
naming the stars
who are we
to think we know them?
to us, they are no farther than the moon
as finite as the glittering streetlights
less comforting, more enigmatic
we watch the sky ripple on the lake,
i wonder if we'll see a shooting star -
what are the odds?
maybe if there were a
meteor shower, we
could wish a hundred wishes
yet we'd never wish
for the same thing
soon the sun will rise, cloaking the stars,
you'll follow her, and
i'll follow the moon
perhaps i'll see you across the galaxy
and nod for rocks sleeping
'neath the lake at mulberry street
Sep 2020 · 112
Anna
Tiger Striped Sep 2020
You saw through me
that first day you stepped in that garage
your eyes sharp,
making their incisions,
finding things even I did not
know.
They call people like you
old souls,
your knifelike philosophy
they name intuition.
Sweetheart, I'm sorry
I couldn't save you from seeing all of me
I couldn't stop my tired feet from running
you couldn't save me from myself.
Yet you still came with me,
you rode the elevator down just to see
what I was hiding from
and you found her, Anna,
in all her glory, tumbling from the window.
You cut your foot on the broken wine glass,
just like I do every time.
She laughed at you like she laughed at me
and you ran from that cursed hotel
while I stood and let her rip my heart out
again.
see: Inception
Aug 2020 · 73
seamstress
Tiger Striped Aug 2020
when i was little, i never
dreamed of being a seamstress
but here i am, threading together
fragments of people in poems
stitching his skin on another's face
sewing puppets of everyone i long to erase
and nailing them to the walls of my house
i specialize in calcifying the past
amplifying the voices of my vices
i dabble in cosmetics,
beautifying villains
making their faces a little easier to forgive
and so much harder to forget
to those who have scarred me,
i give the most coveted gift:
to live forever
the secret to immortality?
eternal, indefatigable words
Aug 2020 · 100
Weightless
Tiger Striped Aug 2020
Why do we fall in love
with emptiness?
Why do we chase the void?
Somehow, nothing
is more comforting than something
sinking heavy in your stomach,
a reminder that
gravity binds us to the ground.
Maybe if we were filled with air,
we could float wherever we pleased,
refusing to relinquish control to the earth –
but something sits hidden away
in the nothing,
begging for more,
whispering that we will die if we don't
stuff ourselves up to our necks.
And we oblige; we
like the allure of weighty things
so we pack them in,
stretching our skin, and we
fall flat on our faces when
inevitably,
it becomes too much to stand.
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
You write my name on grocery receipts
and lose them the next day;
I whisper your name in my sleep,
and forget my dreams by sunrise.
We sit sunburnt on the lawn,
me watching the clouds melt,
pretending not to feel
your eyes on me.
I want to write you a song,
but the words don't make it
from my heart to my fingers.
The sticky notes you leave
on the fridge don't stick, they
slide underneath,
forgotten dust-collectors.
One day you'll remember them,
you'll read them to me and I'll cry,
because you wrote about me,
and I never wrote about you.
Jul 2020 · 55
heart brakes
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
if love is a train,
i'm not getting on.
i'll lay in the tracks
eyes closed,
just to see if i'll die.
i know i'll wake
next to you,
so i don't really care
how i get there,
i just hope the train
is coming soon.
Jul 2020 · 65
lost at sea
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
i was lost at sea,
dying of thirst
and you were the saltwater.
Jul 2020 · 104
chrysanthemum
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
she was a chrysanthemum,
disenchanted with the sun who stole the water from her roots
disillusioned with the rain who ripped the petals from her face
disaffected with the gardener's boot who crushed her stem
she cursed the wind as it mocked her,
flying light and lively above her head
she met a bee once
who would sit on her petals,
fluttering its wings and staring
as if the world were dry
and she were the last sip of water.
and for a moment she thought
just maybe she was,
but she was a chrysanthemum
in a garden of too many flowers,
and the bee was gone before
the sun had left her to the mercy of the moon.
then one day,
a pair of hands found her wilting.
they scooped her up
planted her in a ***
brought her to a window
and watered her just enough.
she took her first real breath and saw
in the reflection of the window
that her stem was straight again
and her petals were strong and full.
she thanked the hands and
they went on being friends;
they gave her water and love and
she gave them beauty.
now she looks out the window
at the sun
and the rain
and the owner of the boot
and loves them.
Jul 2020 · 103
always and only ever
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
will you ever be able to clear
the clouds over your eyes
that cast shadows on your mirror?
it's so dark in here
and you've hidden the light switch
as if neither you nor i
are enough to see your true colors.
but i knew with my eyes closed
from the sound of your voice
and the touch of your skin
that it was always
and only ever you
who could be enough
Jul 2020 · 83
perfection
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
they say perfection
is nonexistent, but
i have learned
it is relative.
Jul 2020 · 94
false prophet
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
nihilism is your Mecca;
apathy your temple
i abandoned religion to follow you.
i thought you were the north star
but as it turns out,
you were nothing but an airplane
bound to crash
with one passenger inside.
but death doesn't matter, does it?
nothing does, in the end.
i was the eye of your hurricane,
the ostensible object of your affection,
terrified to
venture beyond the tiny circumference
of peace.
you'd line your shoes with razors
just to prove you felt no pain.
you were untouchable, you told me;
you concerned yourself for nothing,
i worried for everything.
as it turns out,
your glass ceiling was fragile
and sent you tumbling to rock bottom
when it finally shattered.
you loved the thrill of the free fall,
but i was afraid of heights.
i wouldn't be there for your downfall
though you seemed to know you'd survive.
i was left with no faith
little hope
and more questions than i knew how to ask.
it's been years now,
and still i wonder
were you lying all along,
or just deluded?
Jul 2020 · 56
forbidden
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
oh, that i could picture
your lineaments, soft
curves and angles
that i could conjecture eloquent
words, to color you
as blood colors my veins
would that i could hold you
between my fingers, as
ribs hold my lungs
that i could know you
like a brother
and love you
like the sunflower loves the sun;
bathing in the beauty
of magnificent mystery.
yet you are illicit,
despite these afflicting affections you elicit
you are proscribed by some
cosmic law.
i chase after you still,
though the universe binds my
hands and feet.
one day i'll reach you, darling,
i'll know you and love you and hold you
and we'll be outlaws together.
Jul 2020 · 125
american dreamers
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
red zeroes,
circumscribed about
our sallow
wrists. yellowed
paper, we
circle our
mistakes and
fatal flaws
no erasers.
lemon eyes
pulp and
peel crammed
down our
throats. how
were we
to make
lemonade? four
american dollars
to our
names, it
means everything
it's worth
nothing. crowds
love the
tragic heroes,
but we
suffer our
own stories.
Jul 2020 · 58
limestone cherub
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
limestone cherub
on the grass, by the
busy sidewalk
hiding her eyes
from the passersby
years ago, gentle eyes
wide with wonder
looked for a savior
in strangers rushing past
while summer brought her
the scorching sun
pavement sizzled at her tiny feet
she looked on, delivering her
silent invitation through the fall
while winter brought her
accusing tongues, spitting
frosty hatred
she shivered, longing for the arid days
wrapping her arms tight around her legs
learning to close her eyes,
so she would not hope
for a warm home
learning not to hope
that she could ever stop the
changing of the seasons
Jul 2020 · 57
scream
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
when there is no one to speak to
i
scream at the stars
they don't understand but
they listen
Jul 2020 · 53
personal hell
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
if hell is personal,
i will spend eternity
swimming in a burning lake
of missed opportunities
and souls i did not save
Jul 2020 · 44
tormented
Tiger Striped Jul 2020
i thought
somewhere deep inside,
you were an artist
but the red paint on your hands
was always blood
Jun 2020 · 225
i dream
Tiger Striped Jun 2020
i dreamed of you last night
you were someone else
who loved me
i awoke a ship at sea
drifting aimlessly,
far from the shore
ignorant of the time or date
so long has it been since i gave notice to
the sunrise
or clouds
or stars.
i long for the shore,
yet here i am
in the middle of the ocean
i know not where you are
i sail because i have no other choice
i dream because i must
Feb 2020 · 62
love is
Tiger Striped Feb 2020
i drank you up
like boiling water,
dribbling over
the corners of my mouth
you were everywhere at once,
heat spreading through
my every limb,
sparking my nerves
with your cheshire grin.
we did not know what love was
how could you teach me what you did not know?
how could you convince me
when you did not love your own mother
that you loved me?
you showed me what love was not:
love is not ownership
love is not adrenaline
love is not ***
i still don't know what love is.
Feb 2020 · 78
walking, running
Tiger Striped Feb 2020
the day after christmas i
took a walk in the woods at
dusk.
i felt a city of eyes
staring, none
of which i could see.
i walked among them,
an obstreperous visitor uninvited.
beneath the rustling wind in the trees,
i thought i heard the
pounding of drums.
perhaps it was the rhythm of nature.
it beckoned me to run,
so i
ran.
i ran not from death, but
toward life.
i did not plan to run,
but i
ran.
i ran until the end
of my path.
i watched the puffs of air
float languidly toward the
sky, and realized
this was not the end, simply
where the path stopped.
Feb 2020 · 108
clockwork
Tiger Striped Feb 2020
don't be the clock
who tries to run time
Feb 2020 · 65
torpor
Tiger Striped Feb 2020
This is the story of smoke,
mirrors,
broken fourth walls,
and me.
I
used to play with fire and pretend
I was a goddess, like
I'd created it with my own
fingers.
I once set my carpet on fire
(that's not a metaphor),
and for one brilliant moment I
thought I might have
inadvertently burned down the house.
But I outgrew fire,
grew bored of ice,
and discovered the final frontier—
it was disappointingly tepid:
dull, a bit smoky
from ex-flames that scorched the carpet.
My once-raw lungs are now
jaded and fading.
What is left to grow tired of?
I don't care enough to find out.
Feb 2020 · 290
changing of the seasons
Tiger Striped Feb 2020
a summer scent seeps into spring,
the bitter hint of our endings
the years, begun in swelling tides,
now ebbing toward the shores of time.
this summer heat is scathing now;
the sky found wanting of her clouds
and sun the sole tenant therein,
burns with echoes of what has been.

so long ago, she deigned to rise
from darkness to uncharted highs
and now, our greenest life is graced
by torrid waves shone from her face
once lush and verdant, now descend
the lifeless leaves to life's grand end
our feet will find, in passing by
remains of those who knew the sky

so autumn falls, apprising death
and beauty takes a ragged breath,
exhales a gust of frigid truth,
reminds us of expired youth,
then lies down in her crystal bed
as isolation takes her stead
our memories and warmth are lost
'neath blankets of life's lonely frost

we seldom see the craven sun
we crave that fire that kept us young
and full of life's bright, loving rage
but fateful wind has turned the page
it leaves a blank chapter for us,
to our ink-stained fingers entrusts
invention and a flash of time,
future ahead and past behind

where life began, we pick up now
and to the blessed spring endow
an offset to the bitterness
that once beset our eagerness
we suffered, learned, and now we fight
not nature; not the flow of time
but to preserve humanity
to safeguard that insanity
we named love, for we have found
it is all but by time bound.
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