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Pillows weren't made to look like hourglasses.And we were dreaming of strong arms,
a sheltered home,
the ability to fold our bodies over a structured mold.
delicate to the touch.
Caressing satin cases,
that hid away our yearning cry outs for love,
but pillows weren't made to look like hourglasses,
and we never could get the shape to form.
Concrete and GraceConcrete and Grace
I walked along the quietest places, the stillest waters where even the doves dare not go. I made her face from the clouds, smiling gently down at me. I was trying to remember everything, take every little detail and press it like a flower petal, forever beautiful, but constantly threatening to crumble into so much dust. It was a hard thing, but I know there are harder.
I have a red pen that I keep in my jacket pocket, a small reminder that she will always be next to my heart. I thought about getting a tattoo of her words, but a recreation could never match the quiet strains of memory, and memory is all I have now.
I reach the place where the sidewalk ends, cracked concrete dropping piece by piece into the quay. I stand, toes of my sensible sneakers inches from the edge, staring into the ominous sky. The clouds that remarked on her visage only moments ago thunder up, explosively, big dark reminders of summer's wrath.
I bounce slowly from foot to foot, staring into the
We Traded Our Hearts for StarsFor every boy I ever kissed,
the trembling of her lips matches yours.
(Poet, breathe now.)
I should write this down,
the last piece I ever write about you.
You’ve been gone finding
constellations, ambitions, and things in between,
and this is me being brave,
dancing on the fire escape.
(I wore you like a bruise.)
What Became of Yesterday's Theatrics?Ode to morose pleasantries
Their vapors swallow my day
Burden the winds with gloomy ember
Conjurer of sorrows I dare not remember
And stew in contempt
Estranged from beating solace
I am stripped of fellowship lively and bold
When heartfelt companions were squandered and sold
Recall the nights of quivering elation
Firm and whole
Young with promise
They perished along with the caring few
Fated to die aside the morning dew
Ode to quiet scorn
Bland with mundane worry
True wonders rot in its hollow reign
For dreary silence has become their bane
What became of the lightening’s flair?
Of the pursuant thunder that had its way
What of the restless chatter of youth?
Unknowing of the morrow’s loom
Unfazed by its devilish bloom
The Final UnsheathingIn rest
I conjure the execution
Far from the grimy reaches of truth
The weight of reality
That binds my aspirations
Sends me to waft
Strung up and expelled from the earth
How I ponder the demise
Of a rolling Goliath
High and mighty, its glimmering glory
To slay the eternal light
And burden them all
With the twists and curves my daily sorrow
Through squalor these plots fester
A cancer, sprawling through the mind
It soon prevails over my meek flesh
Rotting the lonely remnants of my stranded virtue
Through this splintered wilderness
Home of the frayed
Callous and ill
I call upon, the mighty reach of vengeance
To be swift and ruthless
Devoid of mercy and distinction
The foul words
Preaching its deafening ridicule
Meanwhile, I dangle waning
Force- fed the final glints of consciousness
I am propelled to solitude
Catapulted from the earth
To commune with weightlessness
Adrift in bliss, I voyage home
Cradled within myself
Hungering for just a little more
Atop sheets of
she had a habit of making stars cryprobably could've settled for
less than mine, but there's
a tongue-tied night sky
crying to the moon and
its narrating defenses
against my remarks, comments
never too dark to notice the spark, dead
shooting stars have been
trying to prove. to me, it takes
more than will to move
the north to the south, no field will
help you, no power will allow you,
no words will let you.
should've stuck to rhyming for
catharsis and, let the night cry to
a fraudulent sun and
found comfort in anonymity to
hang on some more; should've quit
being a witness before i
fell to the floor. should've opened
before popping those pills and let
drag reluctance until it
swam into ripples too perfect for
the moon, and stayed to hold the
stars when they fell
into our lagoon.
probably could've lied about
discovery and the Nile, probably would've
granted every wish worth the while. could've
said the day was too dark for the
night, could've stopped the moon from
settling to surviv
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