all I want for christmas

is my heart back..

'with elegies curling up my spine
carving into my mind
that I.. am just an afterthought..'

*excerpt from my piece 'Funeral Dirge'

bruising the skies

I am the mistress of a dying sun
who's maddening shame gave way to black
neath undertones of opium & abandoned
where love is religion, lost in translation

my heart, it still bleeds
on the floor where you left it
neath your selfish shoes

'I pointed out to you the stars and all you saw was the tip of my finger.' ~ African proverb

tell me..

why does the universe still scream your name?..

'does it hurt to feel me feel you?'

be(lie)ve

in the ruins of vanity

there was a time he was the all around never ending of me
the upside of down in me..
I used to bend myself beautiful in pretty words & a lover's hope..
I'd leave my heart written on dying stars
crimsoned in flames,
coiled in my love
scattered in miles of heavens he'd never look up to see

I was left barely there
standing naked, dressed in silence before the storm
...if only I had loved myself that way...

I have found life since then
scribbled on the sides of mystic moons
& cavernous pains
free from ego stained trappings
splayed in naked innocence
& severed stitches..

of lace & scathefire

he stitched himself in the hems of my mind
in the fringe of beautiful disarray
where midnight sprites dance upon ponds of ebony
in the twisting silence of ancient willows
where passion was life..
breath..
in lost reveries of a heart long forgotten
cast aside
for the love of self
for something more..

fragmented, poetic

under shadows of dawn
scarlet twisted & numb
this is where he left me
burning in embers of love, vintage
where autumn weeps
unhinged in a raven's sigh
silent.. & fire white

"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music." ~ Soren Kierkegaard