The #willow weeps with loss of sleep and cries into the sky. The moon hushes its whimpering leaves, while the wind wipes its eyes. “Please don’t cry,”‘ you dare to say, from beneath its leaves. “Heaven bleeds, “its jealousy, “but you’re safe with me.”
Another morning, wake for work. Can’t do this today. Listen to the misery- all pointless complaints. Straight for home, “Shut up, #vile world.” Gets hard to face the day. Another year, another moment left to contemplate. Should I? Should I?
Flotsam of your memory, supinely on my bed, satin pillowcase underneath your head. Jetsam piles keep floating, on your furious sea, Whispers of chimera dreams, given back to me. There, among the clouds. There, I saw you sleep. Songs of remembrance here, where I weep.
I, the #flotsam that braves the storm, that exists, that survives, only to observe from outside my own window, to watch me make the same mistakes and call it life. The rubbish that fills the junkyard in my head, soul, heart… art. Me, watching from the outside.
Innocence– azure like your empty sky, stained by the scarlet of a broken heart, pieced together by silver plasters, unable to hold innocence. Smoke seeps through where the cracks in your chest unveil your heart, where I swim in your new sea… of Vantablack innocence.
The sun paints the sky in hues of pinks purples. And I #love you like the sun. It reaches its #zenith straightens its crown. And I love you like its climb. It paints the night in yellow stars. Do you love me like the stars? And all the way to Mars, kid.
Joy washed-up with baby wipes between a Kia and pick-up. Her clothes were the last remnants of a miserable marriage, long gone. A saxophone’s soulful #cadence wafted through an upstairs window into her alley home– respite from daily pain, lulling her to sleep.
We start the same as we end. #Effervescent romances, knocking us so dumb we forget how to think. You waved your crimson flag proudly. I didn’t notice till I was waving mine- white, like the light I thought you were. You were no salvation. We end the same as we start.
#Vestiges of us: spilled wine on dinner, candles lit, cold seeping from an open refrigerator, oven reeks of burnt Dutch apple pie. Someone’s knocking. Living room decorated with sparkling glass shards from the coffee table. Someone’s banging. “Anyone home?”
Down by his tombstone, he opens her eyes. Says, “Dear, see? “I’m still by your side.” His sleep is eternal, he’s already died. She screams, “Stay, “Mi Amor, you’re my #vice.” He says, “When it’s cold outside “close your window. “And when you wanna cry “sit right here.”