Hanging like a scimitar
suspended in the sky,
the moon beside a gleaming star
is pleasing to the eye.
How desolate, this satellite
in airless ebon space
and yet, from here
‘tis beautiful
filagree & lace.

the sun set like a postcard
stars fell on carolina
but skipped where we
skid
off the blueridge way
here is where my heart will stay
in pieces
trying to
cram the blood back
inside of you
like stuffing keepsakes in
a suitcase
that just
won't zip
i left our bags in memphis
now this traffic
acts our ocean
i close my eyes and open
these fists
and let them drip
dry
red clay replaced by
your
iron in my
nails
stars fall into the
glass
another dewdrop on the
grass
we pass and pass and pass...
until dawn breaks like tie dye

Does it really matter how many people like my status on Facebook? Why do I delete posts that don't get any likes, as if what I said had to get peer approval to be real? I don't pose for the camera on Instagram to make a fan to get a heart, which I feel has turned to stone like I locked eyes with a gorgon, That heart is as fake as the comparison to the actual *****. It's okay if she's break my heart, I can afford to loan her, I'm an ***** donor.

If I may talk
about wishes,
hopes,
and desires
Wanting comfort,
the feeling of
being loved
How one's arms
and their embrace
speak to you
about everything
you've been wanting
to hear
Dreaming of happiness,
mirth,
and pleasures
How one's existence
matters
and their presence
breathes life
to you
If I may talk
about wishes,
hopes,
and desires
I'd talk about you.