When the river of love

dries up

heart turns into desert

without any oasis in sight.

I was just a misspelled word
you so easily erased
from the notebook of your life.

                  
Now,
how do I ever erase you —
the most beautiful poem of my heart?

in dutch "trap" means "stairs"
they say
stairs stand for growth

maybe a trap does too
so
what are you going to do?

the cracked mirror
splits my face down the center.

one eye opened wide.
the other eye heavy.

one shard shows me young,
the child with dreams
filled with wonder.

the other sharp edge, old,
etched like tree bark in winter

(cuts deeper than jagged mirror glass.)

waxing moon, waning moon,
ashes and the flower blooms.

one eye looks back.
the other eye forward.

morning light, midnight,
all in the blink of an eye.

the mirror---no lies here.

The house groans with my failures.
Every project collapses
like wet paper left in the rain.

People step close,
thinking they can hold me up,
but I’m a broken frame,
sharp edges,
too heavy to carry.

So I push them away.
Better they bruise at a distance
than bleed at my side.

My body won’t bargain with me either.
It runs on fumes,
bones creak like old stairs,
lungs dragging air like stones.

And still
I wake,
I move,
I make do,
inside this crooked life
that doesn’t quite fit.

in a world full of filters
and plastic surgery
and fake influencers
it's hard to find verisimilitude
people lie for money
or fame
or for a grain of attention
how can we tell what's real
and what's a facade
but I see a speck of hope
this community is full of verisimilitude
our words flow from our fingers
leaving us stripped to our bones
and vulnerable
as we pour our hearts out
and bare our souls
finding likeminded individuals
who understand our pain
and joy
and sadness
and love
this community is full of verisimilitude

A man could never
be my muse.
Some might have a
golden touch,
But once the night
Is over,
It never means that much.

Maybe it’s the way
they walk too deserving,
considering all the damage
they’ve historically done.
Always pinning themselves
one of “the good guys”,
Lying to your face
when they say it
While staring into the sun.

Circling back to anything
that doesn’t serve them,
Showing up to the fight
wearing a mask.
Taking what they want,
never even thinking to ask.

If our concious ruled our minds we would have no crime in this world.