Aurora Borealisstars streak the canvasof goddesses witheclectic brilliance
LoveCaramel kisses drizzlefrom your lips, and Istill to a pulsebeat.
ResidueShe wilts in the wind,but laughter still sounds from aleftover shadow.
Rebirthsunscape your stale asheswe will fall to rise anewyour phoenix glimmers sanguine
Daybreaksunlight punctures,splits open the sky in akaleidoscope of burnt twilight
Broken BoyMy broken boywith the button eyes and puppet strings -I clasp you to my heartbeat.
JoyMay life whisperjoy through your veinsbefore lidding your eyes.
DamageLast night you left the light onwhen you walked away,perhaps to convince yourself [just the wayyou promised me] that you weren'tlooking back. I closed the door,gently,perhaps inviting it to be opened again, ifyou had the courage. I left the flowersstrewn on the floor, our favorite wedding vasesmashed against the kitchen linoleum.I found you on the stoop, two hours later,fingers stretching toward the door. I sighed,knelt beside you, and grasped your hand.Your downcast eyes never met mine.This time I let you shut the door yourself.
CynicismCrassly creative caricaturesof crisp contradictionsclutter my cognition.
LiliyaBright-eyed,bird-bonedwhisper girl;dark-dressed,moon-backedmistress of light.
listen1. I shouldn't haveto explain to you that my bodyis perfect just as it is2. the only thingthat I will ever waxis poetic3. women have large breastsand small breasts and sometimesno breasts at all4. I am not definedsolely by my reproductive organsand my relationship to them5. if I never hear anothersolitary word about my weight ever againI'll probably die happy
A Short Love StoryI counted your teethwhen you died,all twenty-eight of them,because it gave me more timethan counting your toesand fingers (and thumbs),or just looking at your faceand telling the coroner:he's the one.
Space BlanketsPurple cloudsdraped over crescent hips--bashful twin moons.
1,001 NightsIn a land ofdreams and dust:the curve ofa half-hazed sun,devoured.
.i would shed my skinwith autumn, but my veins wouldcrack like the dry leaves
snapshotsIt is unfair that you livein the outskirts of every word utteredduring the heavier hours of the night,while your gambrinous stomach cannot containthe idea of me and all the ways I could show youthe decaying portions of promisesyou made in the dark.Don't look for me, I am only an effigy,built from sleepless nights and the remnants of clothingon your floor.You made me into an inaniloquent mess;your quiet laughter dances in the psithurism of forests,your eyes are sink holes,your lies are the lines on my face.And I never realized how much easierit's always been for youto care less.
Dying OaksInfection spreading:faded leavesfalling from bitten branches.
Otherwise Good ConditionI have worn the same dressfor four days, becauseI am sick, exquisitelysick --black and gold, your drunkdimestore Nefertiti. Awhite stain announcesitself, a muddy star:she coughedhere. Undo yourself,those sallow words you drink,let the silk fall loose. I've gota face like dirty laundryand burial grounds --What I touch becomesunwell. I wear my hairlike it pains me,blow kisseslike a little girlsucking her teethat cars, the caked littletombs of sugar that crumble,nakedunder the hot milkof the sun.
meanwhile, statesideheat in the darknessyour pulse in your fingertipsthoughts of distant skin
MythosThe Hunter Orion's prey— a sky of fleeing stars: dawn.Chiron Sagittarius: the archer's arrow, piercing eventide.
Vertebraewe dressed oursalt burns;purloined ribbons& bone crownsspitting static throughour buzzing t.v. teethyou're a silent migraine:blue-blooded, honey-soaked[& i want to be somethingtoo pristine totouch]
breakup breakdowni rarely touchthose seven digitsthat make the voiceon the other endyours
fireflieswhiskey and whispers,tiki-torch lovemaking—fireflies in bottles.
pyrrhic lamentman's final sunset,lost in embered horizons;the purge is complete.
.a lover leaving hishome for another, a sparkthat becomes a flame
.the oaks crouch to greetme, i sit with the ferns andthe forest listens
Haiku IIThe moon shines bright whiteThe tides of sea send shiversWhen will my turn come?
winterice sculpts the sunrise,filters down to still the day;silver mists echo
Sorry for the comment spam, but once again, I am blown away by your imagery. <3