When I awoke, your taste lingered on my lips,
Your touch left tattoos all over my skin.
If only I could see your carnage, to revel in it!
I fantasize about your fingers tracing my skin
And your lips burning a scar onto my *******.
Why are fantasies intangible and temporary?
The compression grip of longing grabs my heart
And squeezes it.
It occurs whenever I ponder on a life I have not
Lived yet or a feeling that I long to experience.
Whenever I feel incomplete or unsure,
Or need reassurance; it comes and goes
Like a summer breeze.
But the beat goes on and on.
Summer, beat, heart, sad, happy
Never have I felt the warmth of day
Graze upon this sunken face;
The swaying breeze escapes my ears
And does not assuage my growing fear.
The gay day is covered in black,
Never again to show its shades.
Custom phantoms cross my mind
That keep me livid through the night;
While the moonshine becomes my daylight,
Darling morning hurts my eyes.
Night is night and night is day,
For the two have failed to separate.
Ghostly figures have my heart—
Timeless sleep ripens my pain,
Enterprises of lost rest haunt
Restless souls as myself.
Lovely day is now my death,
Faithful night is now my life,
Night is day and day is night,
Night is night and night is night.
Day, night, sleepless nights, seasons, May, spooky
I wish to kiss you, to use my tongue as a painter would use a brush.
I long to write poems on your skin and trace verses on your heart,
To caress you as a sculptor smoothing out the edges.
Let me explore you. Just explore.
Without any thought of destination.
Wrote this feeling as I needed to release this somewhere.
Just walk. No need to have a destination
In mind. Just walk.
Just be a spectator to the living earth.
Walk on the ground that has carried your lineage
To great lands,
See how the trees sway for their one-person audience.
Listen, truly listen to the sound of the music
That is formed by the environment.
Let your legs take you to new places
Just as your words take you to new faces.
Walk without expectation,
Expect without reward,
And there shall await a magnificent conclusion.
Earth, living, walking, write
Love is not proud, yet proud at the same time.
Love, you are an interesting being;
You numb me from the painful cramps of hurt,
Yet when I have you, I can fall hard.
Your blindness allows me to see your imperfection
With perfect clarity. Yet all I see are your
Beauteous features and your elegance.
Love, you are not proud, but you should be.
Moderate pride does not hurt with self-love,
For you know that I shall love you until
I whisper your name a final time.
Love, self-love, perfection
The horror of not having you present
Rips at my tender heart with brutal strength;
Already, my heart cries for your presence
Churning my blood to tears while taking my breath
Its tears blister my veins and ache my bones,
Which makes me all the more melancholy.
When the flowers fall, I shall be alone—
Not while I am alive to sit and dream.
However, our child shall carry your smile
Your brave brashness, your bravado, your charm
And I shall have your likeness all the while,
To end this reign of everlasting harm.
My darling, my hearts aches for you as well
And I shall be with you with the bell’s wail.
Loss, heart, likeness, see