the forest pricks my skin
to remind me I’m still alive,
and drafts of winter
crawl up my sleeves,
warning me to stay awake
the world doesn’t end when I close my eyes.
Dreams take form in the fresh, splintered air,
while my mind clears the mist,
so I’m able to climb
where I can feel
your true colors
before the spirits.
with the dewdrops of the
sorrow and sparrow wings
we’ve shed below the soil layers.
But I promise if you try
the shadows will do no harm.
They only reflect the other half of you:
empty and alone,
searching for someone
to grant you life,
a whiff of reassurance,
that everything will be okay
in these woods
no one has ever claimed for themselves.
the smell of cedar
as I suspect
closer to my bones,
lavish lotus spells.
When I’m upon
for your voice
to touch the sky
love develops deep
within the roots—
the nerves, the fireflies
that make us human.
Fiery amber lights
rain down skies
of fool’s gold and obscure kisses,
until the last countdown to midnight.
Happy New Year everyone!!! 💛
Pressing my hands
against the edges of my jean pockets,
I sit on the opposite side of the bench
Hanging by a thread,
we both know there’s a lot less in hope in the seams,
than there used to be.
which one of us
will be the first
I’m not smiling at the incentive,
not crying over the present,
though our heart muscles’ strain is relentless,
I won’t give up on love
We experienced so many moments together,
took milestone risks and veered straight through the pressure.
So what happened to all that time?
I’d wish for anything to make it play on forever,
but that’s only if you’re willing to
keep the threads strong.
Because I don’t want to end up threadbare,
stripped thin of every vein I own.
I can’t imagine you finding a replacement,
another heart for your home.
Hanging by a thread,
our exhales grow a little larger,
while your spirits struggle to get high,
but out of all the melancholy,
a lamp post lights up the dark
across bittersweet foliage.
I’m hoping it will give you a sense of mind,
and maybe a second chance for us to grip onto
rains a little dimmer
without the light
from your tears.
Time no longer glows.
of your voice lures me
into blue fatigue
where my head isn’t getting any stronger
is fetching consolation
in the breeze,
Succumbing to those senses,
I fall fatal for the rush,
the depths of devotion,
we blew out
Spending National Coffee day writing the first drafts of my next W.I.P. …
Under pine tree bedtime bristles,
did you ever think
to look above
at the sky
for a sign
—a hunter’s arrow—
Where collective stardust
fuses our dreams
before motley divine,
and tomorrow’s seasons
hail a sacrificial lover
toward the divide,
I bend and scrape my
way past evergreen war knives.
So many years have gone by,
without my spirit nestled near your side.
So many days have met their plight
because I couldn’t dare to breathe
when I no longer felt alive.
Out of the mist,
and shooting against goodbye blue,
I pray now to glory, I can make it through and through,
carrying my last brittle words,
bundled for you.
How I wish I could harness back my body,
that human corpse you once adored,
to relive what it’s like
to feel the inner locomotion of a heartbeat,
the rush of a storm embedded in my veins,
instead of lonesome river rock rapids,
pounding vibrations interfering with my ray.
The closer I get, the closer I am to relinquishing my luster,
you could be anywhere here.
So I’m forcing myself to embrace the unknown,
the call of the wild shall steer
me to your bow.
But as soon as I cross your path,
will you know who touched your sleeve,
or will I just become another
theory of light?
A prophetic ember
reborn to cede?
Three hundred and sixty degrees around
ghosts and pesky floodplains,
I watch your essence
place a troublesome stone across ripplings of bluish crimson.
Our love’s longevity undulates below.
I just turned eighteen today!!! YAY! 😉