Living half in memory
stitched with fragile thread.
Waiting on replies
to pledges never said.

Held the hands of storms,
drunk on joy and fear.
Kissed through rain,
like lovestruck fools
when endings felt too near.

left some names behind,
held a few too close,
one who lit the match,
one who loved us most.

My nights
float between sleep
and
sounds around me—
my mind drifting
to the shores of rest
and the isles of wakefulness
until I open my eyes
only to wish them
closed again.

I remember you, not in moonlight or sonnets, but in the stench of smoke-filled pillows, half-smirked apologies, and the cold hum of your phone screen glowing too long after midnight.

Love didn’t bloom here, it cracked through concrete where **** and poppies tried to coexist, where we kissed like threats, mouths drunk on leftover gin and borrowed forgiveness.

You spoke in edits, cutting out truths like clutter, calling silence “space,” calling me “intense,” like affection was something to ration, not pour.

I touched your skin and felt the echo of all the hands before mine, none of them holy, just loud.

Hope tasted metallic. I bled through your quiet, left fingerprints on walls you never looked at, and wrote poems you never posted.

So when they ask where wildflowers go, I say: some rot. Some get plucked by liars. Some learn to bloom with fists. And some break through anyway, but they don’t weep. They spit.

met Presidents,
kings and queens plenty,
so many princes and princess,
each one, most impressive
to their themselves.
but never knew an Empress…till now~(k)now

twice for emphasis, but better yet, enraptured,
her commandments, demand immediate readings,
never demanding solicitation, just a whispering
"come hither fool~baby"

the paucity of my words grow paler when I compare,
my tongue tied bonds, and I consider abandonment
of what gives me sparks of belief that tomorrow
will still be worth it, that I can create, something
worth sharing, and the words come up in the throat,
abandon all hope, ye who dare read the Empress

I know, you accuse me of exaggerated exaggeration,
plead the Fifth, the right not to self-incriminate,
pointless to demure, make an appoint ment for later,
when by silence surrounded, everyone gone, re~Read,
out loud chewing every soft obsidian granule, drink
pure water, and curse myself again, who knew, eclectic
electric, as they jay jelly roll (😉) off my was just a few bytes
away, head in hands, equal parts of joy and despair
parting my hair, drawing lines in my scalp, and the
demon muse gleefully, perhaps, at last, thinking mmm…
this will be his last
First Poem of the Day (FPOTD0

and now the day  a)  mences b) ensses

A love poem plays words
on piano wire,
hitting notes
while the writer scribbles the keys,
scratching out
their feelings
to songs like Drops Of Jupiter.

I can see the times are changing
I can see it in your eyes
It's going to be a bumpy ride
I can feel the world is turning
I can feel it through our styles

Together we can fly
Side by side

I can see the clouds are breaking
I can see it in your smile
We're going to go that mile
I can feel the sun is shining
I can feel it in our lives

Together we can fly
Side by side

A mountain can stand alone
But a heart isn't made of stone
Come with me we'll try

Together we can fly
Side by side

Together we can fly
Side by side