• silence tenses

    each barefoot step you take bursts with a plume of morning glories, the lines that shape you, curve and dips, flares like the sun trapped underneath a sheath of gossamer muslin, the very air melts to the ground, and silence tenses like the quivering feet of a rabbit before the maws

  • drowning drunk

    water gushes from head to toe, rain and flood, waterfall thundering since the moon lifted itself out of its reflection, the bridal chamber shall remain forever untouched no matter the treaded floors, the veil casted down—and soft silence; no one shall ever know, but what passes through her lips in the depths of darkness only…

  • sweet rose

    my sweet rose, i have trapped you in a bell jar, my secret precious; i am sorry; i have only ever wanted one true thing, and my selfishness has cost you, your petals; forgive me; i must stretch out the golden thread between us, i must let you go; don’t feel abandoned, our skin have…

  • sweet darkness

    should sea foam roll like puppies by my feet, and the wind whistle where red once was; gosh, these goosebumps say they are happy to be alive, and oh, sweet darkness, i could drink your depths forever, the kiss of madness compels me to dip down further; this bride of death asks: please, peel my…

  • pomegranate

    death is more forgiving than the loss of one’s heart; the void that thrums softly and silence that longs for just the right sweetness, the right song, the right breath for the lilies in the valley to ring once more; mother, spring has left me, the stars go out one by one, i cannot hear—…

  • wings of raphael

    your shoulders round over the heart, why do they slope sad? my eyes roam your curls and knots, binded tissues, longing to set your wings free; what is the peak of the mountain for you? when you can have the whole breath of the sky? . . .

  • kintsugi

    my vessel is broken, the voice doesn’t arise, i fear the blood leaking over my chest, clothes soaking wet and screaming, i can’t place the pieces together, not even kintsugi could molt them

  • home

    your anger storms me, like skin on a drum, thundering, but since your eyes have softened, your words sound like ice clinking on a glass, shy-smiles, laughter—home

  • she says

    if the slow-drifting clouds could speak, the leaves sashaying, black wings beating updrift, and the soft, boney steps of a gazelle; so careful, skin rippling to every shift of the wind; listen: she says, i love you, i love you, i love you

  • pink hyacinths

    your voices swirl like the soothing tint of pink hyacinths, slow smiles and murmurings pile like satin on my skin, more; give me more, i find myself softly rocking on calm seas, . . .