A woman who feels more creature than a being,
Finds hope in life,
Cascading in beauty.
Pockets of time filled with silent laughter,
And love that blankets the air.
With ribbons cascading down her chest,
She looks up to his clear eyes and soft smile,
He tells her she is beautiful,
Every chance he gets.
A life filled with wonder and possibility,
And fever dreams.
A life once thought to be impossible,
To be in love with a man who repairs the seams.
Used to the roughness of love,
Ravenous and mean.
He warms the rigidness resting in the bones,
Embracing the abrasiveness,
Jagged pieces remain,
With brittle flesh.
Does he dare to love the woman hidden underneath?
Liberation has begun,
With a life unfolding,
Filled with aching chests from joy,
and losing their breath.
Finally, she can rest.
Sometimes, I think.
Sometimes I still think about killing myself,
It dampens my mind, but only for a brief moment,
Once suffocating, now a moment spent pondering,
It's not because I'm unhappy,
Nor is it because I wish to leave,
But it's rather just me resting in my cocoon of silence,
Avoidance is displayed best.
Sometimes I still think about killing myself,
The thought of the world spinning on even when I'm not around,
Floods my body with relief,
Knowing my mistakes, hold no weight here.
Sometimes, I still think about killing myself,
But in these moments of guilt,
Of ravenous selfishness,
The robust beauty of being alive.
How to fall in love with living.
Even in those moments when I think about my departure,
I feel the weight of a lover pressed against my skin,
mashing of membranes,
laughter etched in the hallways,
music webbed in the bricks of the house we lay in.
Maybe today, I won’t think of killing myself,
For the weight of the world no longer laid on my chest,
Dozens of faces have gripped my heart,
Lending me their hand when I can not rest.
And I’ll remember,
When all of my days were spent pondering my exit,
evaluating my departure,
I’ll be able to release my breath.
On that day, so close I can feel joy dancing in,
I think I’ll make it, peaceful within.
Universal mouthpiece to all walks of life,
a devious record of all forms of filth.
Infiltrated with beauty.
You can’t forget the damaged or the damned.
The gruesome burden of being the eyes of all,
The ears of many,
the perspective of one.
Succumbing to our knees for something so great
So dampened by melancholy,
A feast for all.
How do you call one soul yours to keep when so many see the beauty?
How does one so lackluster,
Dare to stand within something so great.
For seeking the filth you can’t ignore the glorious.
How does one sinful secret keeper try to make themselves pure?
With the eyes of many,
And the ears of some
will always leave a singular perspective.
Nobody is left to perceive their silken sin.
“Refuge to the mournful hymns.”
Melancholic cries lay to rest here
A thousand voices pulsating down
Bestowed upon every year
The world home for our frowns
Cascading breezes have lifted our voices,
Our hearts have finally called in rejoices.
Ivory and Midnight skin,
Have demanded the air,
Only crying to be seen as a voodoo pin.
Scorched facades to wear,
Has been placed there by the greedy,
Forgetting that we are all that is needed.
Whirling wind begins to form,
Breaking the bark of our tormenting lives,
Illuminating our fury storms,
With an envious ego of prickling hives.
Where our melancholic cries have been put to rest,
After taking the time to see what needed to be addressed.
“Love encased the park” - Quatrain Envelope
The plaza is endowed with garments of emerald,
Lives a lulling heartbeat,
Encased with a spindling of ribs refusing to depart,
A universal history resembled.
A meadow engrained with our melodies,
Millions of voices have spoken,
Our own liability has awoken,
Into blossoming buds of remedy.
Human tears have soaked the moss,
Souls entangled in the breeze
Forever lovers trapeze
We have come across,
A home for the lovers
Sometimes a cascading heartbreak
Comes the new daybreak
Will always call sanctions on others.
For a mere plaza engulfed in greenery,
Still lives the harmony of our hearts.
Love always starts
With our universal history.
Knocking at our door,
The grim reaper wept.
There were too many souls,
Forgetting how to grow old.
Our roof has begun to shamble,
Shattering and splintering,
We fall beneath the rubble,
Reaching an inevitable level.
Continuous haze filtered our view,
Customizable blue light drenched our weary eyes
How can we forget,
The hollowness that struck our community.
Day after day the reaper still knocks,
We are sheltering ourselves inside,
Every nook and cranny filled
With our shuttering bodies, he calls to you.
Framed turquoise hue
Hand in hand we rock,
Inspecting the rolling of the tides,
Discovering the tickling of the wind we watch,
The warping of her branches.
As the branches begin to split,
We see the world ahead.
Limitless view of turquoise hue,
Jagged limbs roofing our heads.
Ripening our crinkled skin,
A child dances by,
Her mother in tow, her grip is
about to let go.
A ribbon is seen
Her color is fading,
Our thoughts are trading.
We have awoken too soon,
To catch such beauty as this turquoise hue,
Delicately framed by generational laughter
Interlacing our fingers dancing in dew.
Ode to 1892
Here I sit,
Tangled in our hue,
I write my deepest sorrows
Only for you.
Our love will be mistaken,
We were never deemed to be lovers
So I leave for you,
Within the margins of our books,
We pass back and forth,
I encrypt my love for you,
Scrawling within every page,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
I shelter my yearning for you,
Hidden in the cracks.
For it won't be for another century,
We can demand our love back.
So I write my ode to you,
My lover and best friend.
From the dimples on your cheeks,
To the braids cascading down your back.
Flushed flesh I press my fingertips on,
dresses that hug your hips.
Honey that I taste,
With every kiss.
They will erase us from history,
Burning down our love.
To them our love meant nothing,
Until the new dawn embraces the women I am so fond of.
What more do most she do?
Born in the grooves of the earth,
Was the man,
Created from dirt.
Splintering from his ribs
Finally, bore women
Glittering in the luminous gold,
embracing the tint of the morning glow.
There is a story untold
Beneath the tongue of god,
For he does not want you to know,
how the truth etched sin in dawn.
Women born from the same dirt,
She spurted her divinity.
Into the shapes of the wind,
Demanding every shadow,
Overturning every stone.
Her mind already engraved,
With scriptures hue.
She has borne the light of the gods,
Same as Adam
Same as you.
Battered down he came,
Reeking of brutality and agony.
A plea for truth.
Satan now whimpered human tears,
for we all embrace suffering
all burdening similar tombs.
Within the silken sunshine,
Her wings sprouted.
Every bone creviced from the sky,
Every pore is shown of light
Every whisper is her angel's tune.
She flew through earth edge
Landing in the stars.
Before she made her way south,
you are your only friend
Feathering skin of a somber soul
Gripping her thighs tearing a hole
Where all the beauty once laid in her skin
Her halo refusing to dim
Singular soul now nothing but embers
For the women who once been
Forgetting glimmer is left
Sparkle of who she once could caress
For her soul is not gone
Her body not too old
Her fingers still snapping
Her feet still tapping