Tag Archives: lone

cirrus

drifting in and out

of their memories

beneath the roof of

your mouth, a bad

aftertaste; melting

candy floss, the kind

that rots your teeth

a shiver in cold spines

goodbye before hello

small talk discarded

glances not connecting

a heat haze in the rain

stranger to every city

uninvited so i won’t

bother anyone again

just another lone cloud

without a silver sigh

i think i’ll float away now

they’ll forget i was ever

here when i finally fly.

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waves of whimsy

I’ll be your optimistic black hole
Full of love I can’t control
Let’s keep each other safe from the world…

~*~

happiness

comes in little waves

of sipped hot cocoa

and marshmallow bits

warming quiet souls

on a rainy sunday morn

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of day-old biscuits

and mouthfuls of chocolate

and a faint bite of pink

in strawberry and caramel

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of melancholy songs

and purple boys wrapped

in twinkling fairy lights

resting beneath telephones

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of such lone-star musings

huddled under covers and

writing epistles for sunrise

as ink stains the skylines

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of whimsical contentment

and peaceful nothings

amid beating quiet hearts

on a rainy sunday morn.

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Death is a Butterfly in a Mason Jar

For death is something

That cannot be caught in butterfly nets

And kept trapped in glass jars

Death cannot be locked by time alone

Its shadowy wings must flutter

Like ashes through smoke

And search for a breath to steal

As it cannot create its own, only pilfer

Death suckles on nectar tears

Sweet to its palate as it is bitter to mortals

Indulge in soft, exquisite decay

Within the lost garden of perennial grief

All before its delicate withering skin

Touches upon an unfortunate fragile falling chest

And suffocates it with gossamer light

Until ceases it to rise once more

Death is beauty and darkness intertwined

Like a balloon string entangled on a white rose stem

Or blood on a stained glass window

Not all can appreciate its grotesque sensibility

As they fear for their mortality

They simply fail to view past the thin veil

To reveal a nurturing, solitary entity

For death is lone, but it must never be lonely

A heart to bring, one soul to reap

For death must always carry one life

Before it takes away its own.

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Shrinking Summer Violets

I don’t think I shall regret

Missing out on such “fun”

I find it more captivating

To be left than suffer sun

You’ll have your holidays

On ocean and sandiness

I’ll have mine in isolation

Of eremite empty houses

I’m but a mere periwinkle

Flourishing with darkness

I thrive in rhapsodic woes

Under films of dusty webs

Foolish or magnanimous

Peculiar or lonesome true

A sabbatical from frantic

You’ll be gone, I won’t rue

Despite begrudging teeth

And behind closed doors

I have a calm delectation

Quailed by literary scores

Basking in bijou quietude

A shrinking violet I’ll heed

Mayhap such an interlude

Is what this lone soul needs.

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