Soft thrums of raindrops
Against scarlet canvas
Crushed flower petals
Bleeding out pink on
Oceans of grey puddles
Pooling on the asphalt.
Shorter days, lonelier nights
Blue shoes over fresh graves
Cracks on the warm concrete,
Forgotten in the solstice midst
And a song stuck between silence
Of a boy lost under his umbrella.
Here’s to the boy with flowers for hands
And a voice that sounds like fair weather clouds
Sending angels down the darkest of stands
And tranquil oxygen that ensconces and enshrouds
Here’s to the child with oceans for smiles
And a soul that plays like a perfect eventide reverie
Keeping powerless, the brightest of minds
A wind chime caught in a breeze, the only song for me.
pastel laughter, petals of umber
lip-gloss stains and sweet december
brick wall steps, stepping stones
withering glares, i contemplate alone
seven mysteries i don’t dare speak
magicians fleet in magic tricks
intervals lead to cyanide infinity
trapped in a loop of tangible vanity
tasting alcohol and numbing smiles
maybe i’ll stay here for a while
midnight calm and oceans deep
i’ll keep my thoughts in the morning
and talk in my sleep.