“Have you ever kissed a lover
so hard
you chipped a tooth?”
she asked
with a grin that
revealed more than one
chipped tooth

He shook his head. “No, and I
really don’t intend
to.”

Well, that’s what you get
for hitting
on a girl you meet
in the yard of the local asylum. But
she said she was a
nurse...

“Anyway,” he said. “If this is what happened
to you… What happened
to him? I mean,
after the kiss.”

“Oh, there were many,
many kisses actually,” she said. “He’s
dead now.”

“What? He died?”

“Well, yeah, dogs don’t
live that much. Compared to humans,
I mean.”

Dream in words and lines
They marinate
Black and white
Colors unimagined or named
The words awaken us and accomplish their feat
Do we dream verses?
Do they talk with us as if to say Write me down?
Record me
Take me to a higher level
Your fault if you forget
Sculpt me and find a fresh new way with me
My forever friend
Somehow you will accompany me now and forever more
So it goes and continues
Anatomy of a poem

c@rainbowchaser2021

It became more and more
obvious
There was a storm inside her

growing ever stronger

and she sought
to terminate it
before it was too late

It's arguably more difficult to
terminate such storms
when you're fifteen
and still living with your parents

so she decided not to
share her struggle
with them
and reached inside her
for the eye of the storm
with a steel wire she'd kept in
a bottle of hand sanitizer for a day
and a night

Yes, the first raindrops painted the
white of the bathtub

they were crimson
and salty

like her tears

Once you drink from it
Digest it
Live within it and around it
One fine precious day you wake to find it is not you
You bid it and the person that is a fond farewell
Set yourself free
No matter how hard that is
Even if you love them unconditionally
You know what to look for the next
Toxic Tonic comes to call

C@rainbowchaser2021

A poem half made
is like bread still dough
like a bed unmade
like half a mo
A poem half done
is like a shade of day
with half the sun
A kiss, an inch away
A poem undone
Is a four moon phase
a count to one
a ‘mil’ out of place
A poem half finished
is like a tin of spinach
still unopened
and an expired usage
A poem not a