While wilting in crimson melancholy
Weeping petals as morning rain
Or tears that pool in midnight mourning
Turn over a new leaf
With the gentle nudge of spring,
Stretch out of winter’s shade.
Author: kaelvas
When You Write
When you write
Don’t think so much about the words.
Words have existed for far longer
Than you or I
The combinations are endless
Statistically though,
They’ve already been used
In this exact order.
Instead, focus on your vision
The way you connect things,
But don’t try so hard to be different
That you disconnect from your audience.
The rose can be just as beautiful red
As it is dripping in crimson melancholy.
It is such relief
To hear your thoughts
Mirrored in a stranger’s voice
Or laid out in pen.
Age
Dried up at the rivers of her feet
Old age is creeping skin
Folded with the precision of time
Lapsing into shades of night
Caressing you to sleep
But peace lost in tossed sheets
And stains of blood and life undone
Arrest your heart with hesitation
While the day’s arrival forbids forgetting.
A touch left unfelt
And words purposely garbled
To keep unsaid the thoughts that fold in
Like dying rivers and creeping skin.
10 PM
Creeping contradictions contort
Themselves while constructing kosher
Sentimentality, placating inner turmoil
With unstable promises of change.
Envy
The fact is this
I’m too selfless to be
Selfish enough to fight for you
Unless that is what you want
But I’m terrified to even ask
I tried once before to tell you
But I jumbled too much at once
And apologized profusely
For the apparent inconvenience.
Stepping Stone
There is always someone
Better for you than me.
I am a much better friend
Than I could ever be a boyfriend.
I’ve spent much more time
In this position.
I’ve gotten comfortable
I know the field.
Here you only have to trust me so far
And I the same with you.
At the end of the day
We sleep in separate places.
And I try not to remember
That I can’t forget anything about you.
My heart is a graveyard
And all the headstones read “vacancy”
A sight both full and empty
Full of all the things I never wanted
And empty of anything that ever mattered
7 AM
It’s 7 AM in a dental office
The sun is low and sky hazy
A slight chill hangs outside the window
Like an uninvited guest.
A mother walks in
Child in tow
Like a worn cable
Pulling a disused train.
And the lone figure
Heretofore unmentioned
Is no longer alone,
But three.
The sound of crinkling
Echoes a forsaken meal
And beady, quiet eyes widen
In longing.
An unspoken approval passes
A concession given
Satisfaction expressed in a crunch.
Verbal Asphyxiation
I silence myself with more words
Than I can carry
A stranger’s voice I once knew
To be my own
Working tirelessly to sew my lungs
And thread my ribs with regret
Laying bricks on my back like a
Home I’ll never see.
I stammer with each breath I miss
Like seconds tangled in passageways
Unkempt
Unclean, unabashed, unabated…
Unwanted
Words flourish like dandelion seeds
And all the world’s a darkened grove
A vineyard stripped of purple, blue,
And green.
Moonlit Poetry 