[ Gallery ]
Snapshots linger over my head
Torn up tears hang over my bed
Smiling at the little things that he said
And frowning at the feelings instead
Galleries fill with paper and silt
Paintings and memories sit with a tilt
Call it all crazy, it’s strategically built
This time it might be meant to wilt
[ Curse ]
I used to run into your arms
With eager feet full of spring
But now I’m just a leftover charm
You wear me like a broken wing
We used to be in brand news
Jumping careless into trust
But now we always have the blues
We keep hold of our cursed dust.
[ Balloon ]
Bright colors fill my emotions
Hiding in hot air and willing to burst
Pulling me further from the ground
And filling my heart with unspeakable thirst.
I’m slipping out of grasp
Tearing holes in outer space
I’m back by a tiny string
Holding steady in one place.
Fear is a friend, when you’ve lasted too far
Fear is a foe, when you can’t cross the star.
Circles and diagrams edge over spaces
She floats past silent doors, into smaller colder places
Listening loudly to the softness of thought
As little ants crawl cowardly, further than they sought.
Candy and sugar coated words
Dissolve on the tip of my tongue
I tuck them away with flirtatious tempt
Suffocate inside a heart shaped bag.
Clambering around a square
Below wooden fingertips and
Above concrete stairwells
I aim to meet you
But my orbit falls too short
Seconds too fast
Snap. You’re trapped inside the flash.
Here, you can last forever
As you are right now.
But will it really be more time to live
Or to endure?
Sometimes I can’t remember.
We used to be unimaginable heartache
Flailing over heels
Chasing all our dreams at stake
And unafraid to feel
But now we’re like a sacred sight
Pulled down to pieces small
We knew we’d never last in […]
Painted bodies against the trees
Flowing fluent through the breeze
Touched each other with loving ease
Left the waves beside the seas
Obeyed the leader in spite of strife
Chanting in ears “It’s not life
The Fat Tuesday lights
Hiding behind their own colors
The escape against
The purple and orange
Beaded necklines covering veins
The flashy dance
Oddities persist, like the drums behind a tune. Carrying on, they carry deeper, even when the song has ceased.Everything I do, is at odds with my odds. How did I get so messy? Why can’t things just stay tidy, the way everything in my bedroom has a place of its own. Except him. Except me.
circle small, sunny photograph, hoola in the park, I remember the children playing, and the experts at concerts. Intricate movement into an art. with vast colors and brights.