Category: poetry
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maybe i’ve lost my spark (the show must go on)
we’re running out of earth and the sun’s not on our side and i fear the moon turned angry and vengeful ∗ ∗ ∗ i think I’ve lost my spark my sense of wonder might be a little tired. or dead. the birds don’t sing to me like they used to and the sun seldom…
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the day that i died
on the day that i diedi woke up invisiblespread my bed and fluffed the pillowwhere i lay my headand my dreams and hopes and fearsall these past years i sat on the ledgeand looked out over the sleeping cityand there was nary a star in the skythe moon was in hidingthe air had the taste…
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protect me from what i want
the very thing i clamour fori recoil at the first sight ofand run awaylike a wounded, whimpering dogi always licked it from knivesand crumbs off the floorprotect mefrom what i wantif you handed it to methen i wouldn’t know what to dowith iti would cup it in my handsand cradle itand hold it too tightand…
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Sometimes My Pen Feels Heavy / fragile
sometimes my pen feels heavyand so i trembleas i wield it to paperwhat if the words i birthare frail, stillborn things?what ifthey’re prematurely hatched birdswith clipped and slighted wings? sometimes my pen feels heavylike a judge’s gaveleach and every blank page is a courtroomand i’ll sentence myselfwith the weight of my sentences sometimes my pen…
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The Loved and Lost Club / the hopeless romantic
you stole my brittle and battered up heartsaid that i needed savingthen played the part of a herojust to save facebut i was fine, i swear i was before you came alongand even if i was drowning then those were familiar watersi’d swam among sharks and riptides for way too longto know how to get…
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an enchanting unraveling
you conjure up whole storms and you calm them tooyou paint dreamscapes and whole galaxieson the wallyou’ve got the universe in your eyescelestial bodies twinkle all aroundyou’ve got stardust in your handsand on your fingertips just like magic music flows in and outand around youlike a waterfalldown from the cataracts and rapidsand into the riptide…
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In My Messy Mind
careful as you step insidedon’t trample the disorganized ideasscattered on the floorbe careful not to slipover the spilt jar of thoughts;the label reads “Overthinking” in another corner, you can hear echoesof laughter and sunshine and happinessheld inside urns and bottlesthe echoes threaten to break free. when you look upand see teardrops hanginglike sapphire stonessuspended by…
Emotion 