Hoarding SecretsAll over Facebook,Hoarding Secrets2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
a portrait of the artist:
better left unread.
We are not loversescort services, the anatomy of desire:We are not lovers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pick your poison baby
like a ten minute dream
the clock is ticking
(and we don’t say goodbye)
sacrificewe danced for rainsacrifice2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but came up eights, not sixes
and the ditchwater flooded our nostrils
we lay face down at sunset
and still the crops won't grow.
At the WeddingThe photographer:At the Wedding2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
His different point of view
A forgotten afterthought.
June was yesterdayA glimpse of freedomJune was yesterday2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
At the crossroad of Silence
Fading as she waits...
Tight-Lipped BreathingIf I could tell you ten thingsTight-Lipped Breathing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
about the art of loving and leaving,
I think I'd start with "Don't."
The problem is,
I'm not sure where I'd go from there.
Little LessonsI have learnedLittle Lessons2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to take you on your word,
because your word
is always changing.
Morning's BirthCrystallized pine treesMorning's Birth2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
reflect the new day; hot mugs
steam around cold hands.
Sometimes the Pain is BeautifulThis is not all we are –Sometimes the Pain is Beautiful2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
a matter of life and death.
Sticks and stones and arrows –
Nobody said they wouldn’t hit back.
And next time it might hurt.
My body is a cage –indestructible –
all liquid love and bandages,
the object of his condemnation.
Everything is better in black and white
And blue…and red…
My, what a vivid imagination.
When it rains, I pour coffee and honesty
What a vicious cycle of life…
Or something like it.
This is Not All We AreWe are imprisoned, in an open cage,This is Not All We Are2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
and through the cage,
we’re the same.
We reach for infinity and
our arms touch briefly which
almost makes me think...
there must be something more.
Beyond the gate,
we can light the darkest night.
But I still believe that
sometimes the stars and the clouds
will explode alone...
without anyone waiting or
expecting something more.
They tried to tell us we’re
but there’s beauty in the breakdown
and we are broken down...
But we must believe,
and hope and pray
and wish for something more.
We had promised ourselves lies,
inside our cage of secrets...
And so we try again,
like ugly birds in a beautiful cage,
to reach out to anything
or anyone else,
for a dream of something more.
Tragedy"A tragedy...." They whisper. I survived.Tragedy1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
OppositesShe was rich with poor ideas.Opposites10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Misunderstanding“I thought you meant forever.”Misunderstanding9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Flat Refusal"No." One word, massive ripple effect.Flat Refusal9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Shadows of a Broken HomeShe burned the last family photo.Shadows of a Broken Home8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Broken BoyMy broken boyBroken Boy8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the button eyes and puppet strings -
I clasp you to my heartbeat.
SWS: ConcealerMore problems than makeup can fix.SWS: Concealer9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Last WordsLast words are wonderful first impressions.Last Words9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
epilogue of a dreamerOn love unconditional, the lonelyepilogue of a dreamer1 year ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
struggle and a passion named December
the most retold story:
a beautiful disaster
the way we love ourselves
like watercolour raindrops
drowning poets in the morning
his telepathic murder
chasing black spots across my eyes
the idiot at the fall of paradise
of all the ways this could end
windmillyour arms, open sailswindmill8 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
gathering wind energy
just to keep me warm.
Lost VirginityHe took pride;Lost Virginity9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She claimed shame.
a mantra of the youngI don’t want to be a body anymore,a mantra of the young7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
so here is my heart, here is my home,
though I’m sure you’d rather see me naked
and composed upon an abandoned sofa
because how much does a broken heart buy you?
(Yet somehow we make it feel like it’s enough,
or maybe it actually is to the bloomers and the blowflies.)