tears glow red
as fear is washed away
the pumping blood replacing it
with a raging Fire
eyes ignite the world
into a scarlet wasteland
with your face lingering in the center-
trapped in the Fire you've been kindling for so long
in a magnificent plume of flames
a final yell is shrieked
and the phoenix released
your face - eternally gone
burned away by your own iniquities
Monday, February 6, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Untitled #1
The trip from my house to yours,
Is a short one to walk.
But so long, to remember.
Standing on this harrowed street once more, I close my eyes.
The world spins.
The cold of the night dissapears; replaced by the warmth of our intertwined fingers.
The smell of this warm summer day hits my nostrils, filling my body with happiness.
Our laughs steady together in a harmony that was once so familiar,
like a favorite song.
The shapes of our shadows become one
as the toes of your Converse turn against the pavement,
lifting your lips to mine.
And then. I blink.
The world shifts back.
The chilly air envelopes me as the cold darkness of the road returns.
The wetness of my tears,
chase away the warmth of your lips on mine.
I am alone, just as I was last night and the one before.
Staring into the emptiness I see so little,
But feel so much.
The stabbing pain of your exit slaps me again with such ferocity that I stagger to my knees.
The now cold pavement meets me with open arms,
Knowing from past nights what comes next.
The sobbing begins:
And I realize that the only thing to comfort me
is the very thing that brought me to my knees:
The shadow of your memory.
Is a short one to walk.
But so long, to remember.
Standing on this harrowed street once more, I close my eyes.
The world spins.
The cold of the night dissapears; replaced by the warmth of our intertwined fingers.
The smell of this warm summer day hits my nostrils, filling my body with happiness.
Our laughs steady together in a harmony that was once so familiar,
like a favorite song.
The shapes of our shadows become one
as the toes of your Converse turn against the pavement,
lifting your lips to mine.
And then. I blink.
The world shifts back.
The chilly air envelopes me as the cold darkness of the road returns.
The wetness of my tears,
chase away the warmth of your lips on mine.
I am alone, just as I was last night and the one before.
Staring into the emptiness I see so little,
But feel so much.
The stabbing pain of your exit slaps me again with such ferocity that I stagger to my knees.
The now cold pavement meets me with open arms,
Knowing from past nights what comes next.
The sobbing begins:
And I realize that the only thing to comfort me
is the very thing that brought me to my knees:
The shadow of your memory.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Music
I am music.
An open palace of sound, whose understanding knows no bound.
A friend who will always take you in, no matter what you've done or where you've been.
An accepting mentor, who will inspire love to your core.
Never will I leave you, oh child of mine, never will I forsake you: your life I shall forever sign.
For I am music: the eternal care-giver.
An open palace of sound, whose understanding knows no bound.
A friend who will always take you in, no matter what you've done or where you've been.
An accepting mentor, who will inspire love to your core.
Never will I leave you, oh child of mine, never will I forsake you: your life I shall forever sign.
For I am music: the eternal care-giver.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Passion
The pallor of your skin only adds to the illustrious burning passion my gaze holds for you.
This gaze swallows my being. It is all I can feel, think. I no longer breathe oxygen, I breathe this power you hold. It is all I have.
Your face is all I see, even when my eyes are closed. Your beauty has imprinted on my soul: the signature of a beautiful artist.
This artist will never know her audience though, as you fail to realize my existence.
So here I sit, ears ringing with the sound of your voice, eyes burning with the image of your face, fingers pained with the truth that they will never be intertwined with yours. The pain spreads, breaking free from my fingers and flowing out through the open cuts on my wrist.
This gaze swallows my being. It is all I can feel, think. I no longer breathe oxygen, I breathe this power you hold. It is all I have.
Your face is all I see, even when my eyes are closed. Your beauty has imprinted on my soul: the signature of a beautiful artist.
This artist will never know her audience though, as you fail to realize my existence.
So here I sit, ears ringing with the sound of your voice, eyes burning with the image of your face, fingers pained with the truth that they will never be intertwined with yours. The pain spreads, breaking free from my fingers and flowing out through the open cuts on my wrist.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
A Jumbled Mess
If life is a book, it's a book finished too quickly.
The chapters lack numbers, and the sentences lack punctuation.
It's a jumbled mess of love & loss, fear & courage, pain & joy, and so much more but yet, so much less.
When the ending is upon you, there is no final shock.
No long lost love to return,
No dawning realization or resolution.
No awards will this book win, for only a few will ever hear your story.
And fewer still will understand the true meaning of it.
The chapters lack numbers, and the sentences lack punctuation.
It's a jumbled mess of love & loss, fear & courage, pain & joy, and so much more but yet, so much less.
When the ending is upon you, there is no final shock.
No long lost love to return,
No dawning realization or resolution.
No awards will this book win, for only a few will ever hear your story.
And fewer still will understand the true meaning of it.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Absence of Hope
"The absence of hope is the greatest despair." - Debra Forrest
The Loss of Hope
The loss of hope, is a life ending.
It's a bomb exploding.
The planes crashing,
And a martyr burning.
The loss of hope, is the sun setting: to never rise again.
It's the fish drowning,
And the sky falling.
It's the ocean roaring, and the lion purring.
The loss of hope, is the silent cry of Romeo.
It's the love of hate,
And the hate of love.
It's the betrayal of sun by rain.
The loss of hope, is the greatest despair.
The Loss of Hope
The loss of hope, is a life ending.
It's a bomb exploding.
The planes crashing,
And a martyr burning.
The loss of hope, is the sun setting: to never rise again.
It's the fish drowning,
And the sky falling.
It's the ocean roaring, and the lion purring.
The loss of hope, is the silent cry of Romeo.
It's the love of hate,
And the hate of love.
It's the betrayal of sun by rain.
The loss of hope, is the greatest despair.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Idea of Love
I entered an online poetry contest about a month ago. I got a letter telling me that I'm a semi finalist for the grand prize and that I've been published in an upcoming poetry book! I thought I'd share the poem that is going to be put in the book with all of you.
The Idea of Love
He was in love with the idea of loving her.
But the idea of love, doesn't hug back.
She didn't know, he existed.
He watched her, fall in love with someone else.
He was heartbroken. He ran up the stairs,
Looking for a new love.
The new love was sharp and beautiful.
He began to make himself one with it.
The slow repetitions of his love, began to cut deep.
They found him on the bathroom floor -
with a bloody razor blade in his hand: His new love.
The razor blade gleamed,
as the last bit of his bloody love dripped off of it.
The Idea of Love
He was in love with the idea of loving her.
But the idea of love, doesn't hug back.
She didn't know, he existed.
He watched her, fall in love with someone else.
He was heartbroken. He ran up the stairs,
Looking for a new love.
The new love was sharp and beautiful.
He began to make himself one with it.
The slow repetitions of his love, began to cut deep.
They found him on the bathroom floor -
with a bloody razor blade in his hand: His new love.
The razor blade gleamed,
as the last bit of his bloody love dripped off of it.
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