Strange Dreams

I dreamt a strange lie,My mouth against your neck,And you turned your head to sigh,Eyes closed, hair mussed,Whispering, "I thought you died."

Disrobing

After the party,Our exhausted bodies sprawl,Through the foyer doors,Slinking to the living room,Opulent, pristine,(Because nothing lives in there)My red-wine breath fogs,While your dark dress falls,Pale, moonlit skin, bared like knives,So soft and so cruel,Cuts into my blurry mind,Your wrothful embrace,Kissing, clinging, poisoned lips,Our lust fills our hate,Nothing else can satiate,Spent blood, exhausted,A push and pull, … Continue reading Disrobing →

Withering Gold

Elegant bands twist,Relationships golden-hued,Bonds so intricate,The faintest marring,Results in tragic collapse,Our perfect circle,Now but ashes in the wind.

Heart. Attacked.

Timing is sublime,Rhythm off, growing hotter,Watching her lips smile,Hands touch, a muted laugh shared,And it all ends with a pop. I am so sleepy.A heavy heart drags me down.At least it's warm, here.

Neglected Correspondence

An old box of notes,Our loving correspondence,Yellowed with neglect,The words now illegible,Yet your perfume clings to them.

Cool Valentines

Winter lends coolness,To the raw heat of the day,Killing misty dreams.Lovers cling together, inDesperate idolatry.

The pen hovers still

The pen hovers still,Frozen like midwinter thoughts.While ink slowly dries. How did I write, then,In those days before you came,Bringing me such joy?Now that you are gone from me,My shattered art weeps such words. Joy taught me the skills,That gives life to hollow thought,Arranged in sad forms.

Settling in with the Setting Sun

Her toes curled in her damp socks, drying in front of the little space heater beneath her desk. A cup of coffee-milk (to call it milk-coffee was to stretch towards fantasy) moved around her face: first to her left cheek, then her forehead, over to the right cheek, her lips, and then back again in … Continue reading Settling in with the Setting Sun →

A Reminder

I wish I forgave you your faults,And perhaps been more aware of mine,But I'm a coward,And left you behind,So this poem has no purpose,Just a reminder that I fucked up,And the fault was entirely mine.

Not a poem

This is no poem,It's simply an idle thought:I think that I still miss you.