"capillary" poems
Lovesick and you've got the cure.
Got all these symptoms. You know what for.
Don't be afraid of this contagious disease,
Just take my requisition form.
I've made room for you in my atria and ventricle.
You're the capillary to my arteriole and venule.
You're the amniotic fluid to the child in my heart.
I find you even in the interstitial parts.
Treatment like uours is like a centrifugAl force.
So be the **** stasis my heart is longing for.
Some homeostasis is what we need.
We will make compromises to succeed.
Lay me supine and you in prone.
Sensory neurons fire
Exocrine glands make to pressure
Spark endocrine glands to hear you moan.
Without your heart I'd be anemic.
Withiutbyour arms I'd be half a paraplegic.
Your kisses give me air, without them I'm cyatonic.
You're the fibrin in my veins, to my pain an anesthetic.
I'm ready for some long-term care and affection.
Got a chronic condition that needs your attention.
I k now I'm concluded, parts of me sclerosed.
Don't wait post mortem to know that you're the most.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
this door exists,
stately and staunchly it stands,
disheartening and terrifying it remains.
the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened,
for in it, a path in time...
one decision that can affect everything
[such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore,
which lead to you noticing me for the very first time,
or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with,
which i can no longer listen to]
...for in this door, one path
is intimidatingly located.
every bone in my body,
every last muscle, tendon, ligament
each artery, each vein, each capillary
every single nerve,
even each microscopic cell,
implores me not to open this tempting door...
[it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle,
to unleash the unknown upon me,
the colossal chain of events that would ensue]
the immensity of the unfamiliar,
the unexplored,
tends to perturb me.
change is unnerving
and is almost as chilling
as an abandoned graveyard at midnight.
but i bring my mind back to the door,
yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself.
why is the **** so easily turned?
why does it not put up somewhat of a fight,
at least jolt me suddenly,
as to frighten my curious heart?
it is a constant battle between my body
my mind
and my heart
as to which doors to open
and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed.
but never once has there been such a struggle
for them to reach an understanding.
somehow my heart,
[even though a fraction of me,
a fist, dripping in blood]
is prevailing for the moment.
my heart reaches for the handle,
attempts to unclose the door...
yet, with the best of its ability,
withstanding my strong-willed
and obstinate heart,
my powerful body and commanding mind
overcome this hostile takeover,
and the door remains shut.
it is my body,
my skillful mouth,
my soft, rose lips,
my elegant tongue,
and my vocal chords...
all of these pieces must
contrive the words,
conceive the change,
which will unveil the path that will forever alter us...
slowly, opening the door.
being as in love with you as i am,
i will not let you slip away from my arms right now.
but when we are not together
[*i wish you’d have been there,
i needed you there*]
i stare at this humbling door.
if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you;
for it is you who will make this choice for me,
opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
Tiny wrists.
Tiny rivers of blue.
Translucent.
I'm thinking about making myself a home
Beneath your pale skin.
I'd float along your lazy blue river
Until I make my way to your ghost chest
And burrow myself a tunnel
Deep inside your heart.
Light myself a campfire,
And pitch a tent.
Looks like I'm gonna be here for a while.
I am rocked to sleep with each beat:
Onetwo. Onetwo. Onetwo.
And my heart-house dreams
Intermingle with yours.
Maybe if we dream hard enough,
We can create a world of our own.
Where red blood cells sing like angels
Housed in four chapel-chambers,
And each artery stretches up far
Like a rainforest canopy
Riddled with exotic capillary-flowers.
Can we be safe here?
The heart has tender walls
But it is a soldier.
Though it may be kicked down,
It forges on
And picks itself right back up again.
Always beating,
Always winning.
Your heart is a soldier.
A fighter.
A protector.
I think I feel safe,
For the first time in a long time,
Within the home I've made for myself
Inside of who you are.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Smoke is filling my bones
The carcinogenic ghosts of an irish ancestory
At war with my german temper
Fueling the fire
To a heart that beats for belonging
Keeping me in step with the frostbitten sidewalks
Of a December morning
Lips moist from french vanilla cappuccino
And your chapstick
Smoke is filling my bones
I'm rolling through my own fingertips
Losing touch with my own reality
Wondering if my knuckles are white from clenched fists
Or the grip around your palm
Smoke is filling my bones
You don't smoke
Yet you fill your lungs with my exhale
Breathe me in
I'll house myself in your capillary beds
Where I'll tuck myself in for the night
Listening to what makes your heart tick
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
I know the flowers better everyday
their twisting stems
their curtain petals
their floating spice
I know the flowers better everyday
their capillary roots
their plum faces
their purple stamens
I know the flowers better everyday
their shaking seeds
their modest thorns
their unabashed lust for the sun
I know the flowers better everyday
I know the sun will rise
I know the clouds will rain
I know my daughter will laugh
I know the flowers better everyday
I’ll draw a fence for flowers
I’ll draw a muzzle for the sheep
I’ll draw a number for the man to crunch
I know the flowers better everyday
I know how lovely it is to feel
grass in between toes
the breath of a boa
the embrace of home
I know the flowers better everyday
I am forty
I am a mother
I love fearlessly
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
tenderness leaves
my eyes in capillary ribbons.
your diamond lips are chalked,
released from rock.
your head, a knot of angel pine—
a dark-brown blooming
sticky and lucked to the back
of my throat.
it is in this moment that
I hear a wisp of rapture
blowing through the oak overhead.
my heart’s motor cranked
like October’s last churning
bumble bee.
*pollination
susurration
be gone…*
you kept looking past me,
your hand on my shoulder.
the precious gauze of your profile
mixed porcelain doll and found a
chisel to perfect your nose.
I feel the love of everything and
you—so unaware of your
beautiful.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
You are the systole to the diastole
Of my four-chambered cavity
You are the pulmonary rhythmic control
That fills air to my capillary.
You are the Pituitary Gland
That drowns my bloodstream in dopamine
You take my brain to a wonderland
Drunk and overdosed in Seratonin.
You are the only Mitochondrion
That powers all cellular activity
My Cytoplasms are in motion
For the sexiest Golgi Body.
You are the ultimate synapse
In my every granule of neuron
That gives an involuntary prolapse
To both my dendrite and axon.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
~
*You're alive, my candle
You're a beautiful and unique wick
About to blow out
In the night of falling shapes
In the night of fever walk
We did the igniting
We did the melting
We do the killing*
~
Mar 27, 2023
Mar 27, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
I'm just getting in the bath,
Someone else wrote the letter,
I don't want to make a. Mess.
Draw me the water
I point at the tap
Burden no family
Hold my head under icecaps.
Merkel Cells, diluted sensation,
The end of fingertips cant feel your
Flesh.
Shriveling in the cold,
Shivering to stop freezing,
But I cant. What am I doing?
Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected.
Have I set motion to,
Cogs in a watch I cant adjust.
my lungs mark absolute zero
this is me sitting in chemistry class
english
10th grade
asking sam to suffocate with me
every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles
my chest is permafrost
my sternum, antarctica
the ribs hollow out
capillary beds lose all the haem
out of their erythrocytes
I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire.
The baths still panting out,
Water roars, gushing spout.
Proud the current sweeps me through,
The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom.
It's bone cannot hide from my blood,
As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium.
Heat seeking marrow.
My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma,
Tearing through sheeting tile,
Like a young cancer child,
Afflicted,
Leukemia,
No chance,
No good blood left,
To let.
Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that
freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles
form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice,
it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during
the solstice.
Spring will never come again.
Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Your fingers traced the curve of my forearm like an atlas that mapped out the route that would lead you back to your heart, but you knew the journey was a labyrinth as complicated as the waterways of veins beneath my skin, so you removed your hand. Instead, your fingers found their familiar solace upon the sturdy neck and trembling strings of your guitar.
You plucked each one intently, running your hand down the edge of the fretboard and feeling each chord reverberating within the empty space of your every capillary.
I moved my gaze to your eyes, the black holes that have always swallowed me whole with the promise of never regurgitating me into bigger pieces than what I was originally.
I found myself reminiscing to a time whenever your eyes were identical to the ground we laid upon the afternoon we first decided to find versions of ourselves within the shapes of the clouds. But ever since, the innocence has slowly seeped from your expression and a stare as hard and cold as stone has taken resisidence in its place.
I allowed my eyes to slowly drift closed and suddenly I began to feel each strum of your fingers within my rib cage, the notes sketching portraits of a love never experienced upon my internal organs.
When you stopped playing, your hand immediately reached for the long-necked glass bottle resting upon the edge of your night stand. You brought it to your lips and tipped your head back, slowly drinking in every bad decision you have ever made and the after-taste that you had begun to crave. It burned your throat like acid, but each swallow was a reminder of just how hollow you had become.
Your fingers found their place once again and I readjusted beneath the weight of your expectations. I draped my legs over your bed like every profession of love that I have never said that hangs from the brim of my lips. My fingers danced across my thighs to the beat of your song, one not as familiar as the one of your unrequited love, but I still managed to dance the same.
And we seemed to lie like that for an eternity, you focused on every chord that never came out wrong like every word you ever said to me, and me basking in the sound of your unspoken promises and confessions just waiting for the day when they become reality.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
A stapel river flows in Hyena
pack,
rivulets of laughing
data.
Twist a turn to deconvolute destituted
band.
From arterial ort to capillary
place
respires a quantal
love.
Quid non quo
flows,
trickling down in plain
flat,
in crevice crag, filling just
enough.
Fresh down to Mexican
border
town, in flooding estuaries, in fanning
delta,
it breezes meta confidence within six
Sigma.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
If my blood could illustrate,
A picture to the world,
It will tell you the exact state,
How my heart pumps its hurt.
Each ventricle pumps emotions,
Pain, anger, hope,
Up to my brain,
And down to my toes.
Slithering through each artery and vein,
Blood carves my hearts pain,
In my head,
In my head.
Working through each capillary,
It forges anger and rage,
In my bones,
My aching bones.
After its done its work,
It fights back through each valve,
And pours back into the atriums,
Devoid of fury and pain.
It was used up,
Just like my tears,
My wasted energy for nothing,
It brought me no good.
Just more hurt.
And just slowly,
As the pain and anger dissipates from my system,
And fresh blood is packaged and sent,
From my bone marrows,
It brings along a slimmer of hope,
That this new cycle of blood would carry no more pain.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Long ago I was young and naive and hopeful and believed
My heart was a flame with the belief of love
Its plumage magnificent and terrifying
It lived in the belief that even if it were broken it would rise again
But this was not quite so long ago
The time of the heart is different than the time of the mind
When that great phoenix
In its youth
In its greatest power
Burns in its own fire, its fire that had been cared for and admired by hope
Cared for by blood and bone,
By faith and innocence,
The mind laments its loss and shares its pain
It lovingly scoops its ashes into the ornate urn the mind thought it always deserved
A sight to behold
The love that the mind bore for the heart, a love that could never protect it
And hides it within the folds of its grey domain
The phoenix does rise again,
Small and fragile,
Afraid at the loss of its power, of its grand wings, of its fire divine
The mind takes it and places it in a golden cage meant to mend and protect its flames
But a phoenix cannot grow in such a place
It cannot fly
It cannot sing its terrifying song of beauty and power,
Terrifying in resonance and in truth
But in the mind it feeds only on dry seed, not the sweet nectar that it is worthy of,
The mind knows that the heart needs this freedom,
But it also knows that this freedom will lead to another supernova in the intercostals,
It is out of love that the mind does this for the heart,
For the heart is not the only one to know pain and beauty and power
The mind suffers silently, with an unyielding patience as the pain reverberates through every capillary,
This interaction goes unnoticed,
It is assumed that the mind must be evil for denying the heart such wonders and freedoms,
But only the pain can be seen,
Never noticing the healing, not until its finished does it become evident.
I had not noticed this,
I had forgotten the value of my heart,
I had forgotten to give it the fire of hope and the winds of innocence and waters of faith
And the purity of trust.
But one of impulse came my way
So short and intense was this strange affair
His chance and command of chaos came to notify me of my folly
And then
After he came and went,
After he shocked me into consciousness
My heart awoke,
Because of him it awoke.
The pain of caring, the same thing that caged my phoenix, gave it power again.
Its fire ignited, its plumes aglow, its song again pure in tone, full and rich in sound
I had forgotten,
Forgotten the power and beauty and value of this gift
Forgotten that it is not a right, but a privilege to own a heart
Only those who care for it, who tremble in the phoenix’s presence, those who trust it,
Will know love,
Will see its beauty
Will be rewarded by it
It does not know ownership,
It is living,
It is alive and depends upon its carrier for nurturing
It does not need protection from pain.
But this man,
Who chaos and coincidence sent to me,
Does not even know that he saved my heart,
That he awoke not only my heart but also my mind
He woke me from a lie I had knit and had called my skin,
He reminded me that my heart was still within me,
He reminded me of where my heart belonged
He saved me from a life where I would not trust or nurture my heart,
Saved it from a life without trust or belief in love.
Thank you.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:31 PM UTC
The girl’s corneas expand over the small black abyss of pupil
Tides of blue and hazel rising over onyx isles
An unhinged eyelash balances precariously on its neighbor
It evaporates with her quick blink
Directly beneath her right eye
Below the mottled eggplant shadows
The corpse of a capillary drains among the freckles
Subterranean rivers of vein
Pulse under thin skin
Her nose is spherical
Etched by soft papery scars
Pores round and gazing
Culminating in a uniform valley
Lips are soft and pink and unkissed
A source for a small steady trickle of pride
Her mother’s lips
But behind the outer façade
The seamed surface is rough with nervous nibbles
Ribboned with scars of worries and troubles
She lacks fourteen teeth
Absent since the womb
Those she has are either sickly infants or filled with grainy mystery metallics
Some entirely fabricated with spatulas of amalgam
Yellowed and cracking
Rough and worn
Spongy inner marrow screaming with pain
She hides the stony incisors from view
The hair
Curling and waving
Kissing with reptilian tongues at her cheeks
Neck
Forehead
Framing her face in brambles and cowlicks
Indecisive of its true form
Fuzzy with moisture
Unwilling to obey
The strands of a gorgon
A monstrous tangle of personality
Instantly recognizable
Her hands attempt to soothe the undulating tendrils
But they anger
As stubborn as her
Refuse treatment
She gives up
Rinses her hands
And turns away from the mirror
Sighing
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Pain reminds me I'm alive
Wish it would just let me die
Head spins violent ***** spouting
Evil eye pressure builds up pounding
Cracks streak my face from capillary fractures
I choke on three day old eggs and curdled milk
My teeth devolving in stomach acid
As bitter and stringent as anything I can think of
Still not done ********
Hemorrhoid blood dripping sticky
Toilet seat gripping
Not to mention the bathtub
Full of ***** needing washed out
At least my hair is clean...
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
As the light made islands on the water,
ethereal bubbles frozen with warmth,
tucking tired beaks beneath wings, pigeons saunter,
into sleep, on tesselated petals, going forth.
That summer aura which sparks from you and thrums
moving dials to a sanguine solstace in me.
Hitting cold skin, the blood rush is autumn;
cathartic capillary trees with loose fingers and red leaves
and in these veins speeds my guttural london estuaries,
to syncopate their tide beats with yours.
Those mediterranean wine filled arteries
will encompass my imperfections to pearls.
From my idealist sonnets hearts you come
fixed on air, a changeable paint that can't run.
Like newborn fern fronds you unfolded your words
cut with castanet syllables peppered in.
Sentences ushered on as pacified herds
breathed out plumes, rippled fire, wind-thinned.
I then learned a beauty untamed, is a beauty rare.
Those eyes indeed are coffee dewdrops pierced by sun.
Those lips are pronounced like unbroken waves that tear,
on the cusp of unspoken words braced for freedom.
Core bright, i see the rose through the street's ornaments.
From the slight rise of your nose to those angular cheekbones,
further a picture of stunning complex arrangement;
identity of locked cogs, in you, are the pieces of home.
Islands on the canal of time; forever moments un-faded.
We aren't seen in a new light without becoming more illuminated.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
I'm a hung dumpster! Alcohol flask bucket
Sacked into the trash can of grocery store monopoly the end of all produce and of production
Collapse
Coronary killer vegetables
Rotting in the stomach
Begotten sons of Aspergers eating asparagus
the symptoms of collectivism and social surplus. colliding and,
The end of evolve.
The cities you see are the collecting cells pooling to cesspit trudging on tracheing breath.
Collapsing lungs with no space left
The cornucopia is over. It fell down with its mortar and grout lain to crust into soil. Traipsed through toil torture and insolence.
The Crimea fell next comes bombs next comes Obamba. Capitulation with motor skills
Feigning docility and anti-hostility mortar round bills.
Mountains from Jerusalem cricket ant hills
I am your friend though we owe the same blood
I am no different yet I give nothing up
I claim all the land just as you do
You take and you take and I lose and lose
Corruption and solitude
Killing people only gets you less friends
We are mirror yet very mad at it
.
My time will be up only but once.
This is the one time I'm not scared of death
But the glimmer in her eyes laughs me through it.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
Anesthesia seeps into me and settles
like plaque into my arteries
where it converses with my blood.
I let its ugly yellow fingers swagger through,
waving their malicious banners
proclaiming my surrender.
My lungs breathe chafing dust
that conspires
and leaves me suffocating
under the silent sands of guilt
that build up into graceful dunes.
My mind loves the desert in my lungs
despite the lifeless contours;
it is far away, removed and sees
a sweeping landscape, patterned
by the winds, my rattling breath.
But my heart lives next door
to that forsaken terrain.
It feels the pain of the parched *****
gone unacknowledged by my mind.
It feels the lecherous caress
of the ugly yellow fingers
that violate my blood,
stroking, disgustingly, inside my veins.
Still my mind remains
Doorless
Windowless
Refusing to see.
Serenely smooth, impenetrable Reason.
My heart has no hands
to hold a hammer or a sword.
Yet Your tongue is a sword,
Your words a hammer of consciousness,
Your expression the oil to reignite
shimmering embers buried under ashes.
My mind’s shield becomes an eggshell—
it shatters, flinging shards away,
letting the newly lit inferno roar
through every capillary, burning away
the ugly yellow fingers.
Winds from within gust through my lungs,
force the desert from my chest.
The sand rends my throat and lips
in its storm of escape,
and the blissful tears that rain from my eyes
quench my arid lungs.
The fire recedes into my heart, where it burns
white-hot and pure—
My eternal sun that gleams within,
to You, I surrender.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
what do you hide in
those claws, other than ice
water? it falls like a gong
until it crashes into me, and then
the warmth hugs it, and then
the molecules move so fast they need
milk of the poppy to release any
energy at all. when you told
me your rapids join an underground
river, and that i am the nile
hugging delta silt, i felt like a
sunrise, like a capillary, like a
sphere of light dissolving the boundaries
of our bodies. i want to follow
you like the nymphs of Hekate,
i want to breathe your torch because all
my faith is inside it. i want to gently
pull your son out of my horned womb,
under an old pinus halapensis
on the foothills of mouth olympus.
i want to fiercely hold you
like waves of the aegean
under a full aries moon, sky
clad with our soles half in water, half
in ancient rock fragments, the ivy
a filigree binding our wrists,
our soul merging into infinity and
then surging forever, like the
endless forest fires on the arid
and rocky venusian shores.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 4:54 AM UTC
The most beautiful moment.
Tears.
Like oceans overflowing barricades.
The flood.
I Drown for your breath.
I blow your face,
perfectly still.
Serene, tragic.
Tiny, fulfilling.
Why did this happen?
The tears keep coming.
Even now,
hidden in a painful box, my mind, pandora guards.
I remember the first embrace.
I arrived, late.
You were thrown to me
before I could catch my breath.
before I could compose.
before I could gather. be strong.
Floods came. They still do.
Here you were.
Yet were not.
Why.
I blow.
It doesn’t come.
I prayed and I blew and still you were.
Surrounded.
Tragedy.
Beauty.
Nightmares.
Here you were.
We are lucky I suppose.
We treasure those days, in the depths of our chambers, they are ours.
Precious.
Untouched by the demons.
No one can tarnish.
I took you and bathed you
as the tears engulfed my soul
slowly and quickly
drowning a piece of me.
Of our family.
Pain touching
my every capillary.
Still I blew.
You broke me.
You connected me.
You taught me.
Real love.
Real meaning.
Still.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
The inferno builds, beginning from the tips of her toes,
where corroded copper pennies lie covered in sludge & slime.
She claws in the darkness searching for notches in the stone,
surrounded in a tomb of suffocating impenetrable rock.
Inch by inch she reaches the surface, bleeding at the nails,
blinded temporarily, with hesitation, she finds her footing.
The inferno is boiling now, unstoppable,
coursing through every vein, artery, capillary,
culminating in a throat constricted from a history
of silent struggle, not one understands.
A scream lies in wait,
yet she is afraid to give it freedom,
fearing the rage will take on a life of its' own,
and become a never ending roar.
A blank-faced crowd stops & stares,
some giggle, others mock in disapproval,
snide noses upturned, they simply scoff and continue on their way.
She watches, red-eyed, at their backs,
like an army off to battle.
Feeling a grin of confirmation & satisfaction forming on her lips,
she celebrates her victory.
An ivy league education would do nothing for their perception
of her.
Empathy is dead. Nothing is authentic.
Either be strong or cease to exist.
She returns to the hole in the earth,
filled with her own murky stench,
away from the chattering voices of those
forever searching for accolades & meaningless status.
Alone, she is jubilant, in her own nothingness.
She floats in water as clear as crystals,
with pennies, now sparkling underneath her feet.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.
Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.
In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes
like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?
with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!
who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
His Grieved eyes stare down the barrel
Teeth clenched, dressed in flame, she's got a soul to steal.
As faint rays of day trespass
A ravaged passageway
The long forgotten bell tolls,
Accenting this tired tryst,
With the accelerating sunset
Dying the skies a capillary crimson,
Just another piece of scenery
Behind this scene of deceit.
The burnt shrine supports his skull,
As through tears torn tapestry and shattered glass
His vision is over powered by the pin-up with a pistol standing
Point blank.
The dilapidated temple calls for one last mass, one more sacrifice
A fantastic funeral pyre paid in full, with the sins of Helios.
The words escape,
“I love you”
Only her tongue matches the sky
And theres no way to block out her incandescence
His tears of scarlet
Splash against the cold steel his teeth grind
All his hopes, all his dreams...all that he is
Now just organic graffiti
Splattered
All across the neglected floor of a forgotten Church.
With the horizon swallowing the sun,
she vanishes in the dusk,
And as he falls, so too, does her ring.
Two bonds broken, death they sing.
Jan 14, 2010
Jan 14, 2010 at 4:16 PM UTC
Petals fall, wheels roll
How swift is the flight of time
Lifting the veil of my translucent memory
The past comes alive with a rare fragrance
Don’t you remember the very first time
We saw each other on a Christmas Eve
Amid gazing eyes, we stood embarrassed
As Time, like an unsteady toddler
Crawled away on hands and legs
How we simply stared at each other
Unable to commune our thoughts in lucid words,
Later in the ripe moment,
When we solemnly held our hands
How dazed we were by that electric touch
Memories so green linger my dear
As though it all happened just days ago
With all the fervor of our young hearts
We were pledged to explore life
Youth and hope then walked hand in hand
Warm blood flowed through every capillary and vein
And life glowed in gleams of golden light
We were lifted upon wings of love
From the terrestrial plain unto heaven’s heights
Days flew, months into years fled
Amid gusts of laughter and of tears
How the stairs of life we climbed
Through what labyrinthine paths we traveled
Posing undecided on turns and curves
But holding fast and never loosening our grip
In the ripe season how thoughtfully
Had we sown the seeds of love
Watering them with our saline tears
How excitedly we watched them sprout and grow
Memories so green linger my dear
As though it all happened just days ago
I feel the years have flown too fast
Now life’s fire is almost extinguished
Somber shadows darken our track
The night ahead is darker and colder
We have to accept the in eluctability of it
Doting on the past is now our pleasure
When we look back, we see the thrill of victory
And the tears of defeat and heartbreak
Life presented us with a mixed bag
We have watched the death of spring
We have bore the heat of summer,
Seen the leaves drop in the mellowing autumn
And the chilly shroud of winter is about to veil
Without revolt, let us accept the truth
But till Death do us part, Oh my Love,
Let us hold our hands together
And stoically wait for the final sunset!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC