Far Off Shore

I remember when
the first words out of my mouth
were not infested by
meandering termites &
my tongue still
felt alive

I remember when
fortune was not just
a four letter word —
but a one way ticket
to favored utopia

I remember when
there was still
laughter in the rain &
my hand did not falter
touching yours.

– age –

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(Brainf)artistry

there is nowhere left to go
as I see your colorless fortitude
fade to crumpled bones and worn edges —
leaving you bare & stripped of
all those wonders you wore
like everyday clothing

& Instinct
uproots congeniality – while I
remain guessing at
whatever the fuck you said
in that certain moment
when longing turned to resignation.

may those presumptions crumble
and turn doubt to dust,
never to be cradled again.

Into The Gray

she shivers in the rain —
watches fragments of a promise
turn to asphalt tears
& swirl away to mingle with secrets
far beyond her grasp

she shivers in the rain —
while stoic words of an outcast
drip from her lips &
her tongue savors the sharp edges
of those foreign sounds
that taste like braille

time trips over itself
as she traces
the seams of quilted past
soon to be ripped once more
& all the while
she shivers in the rain.

Paper Cuts

your story lingers
not in those letters ~
your feeble voice
never ruffled fragile pages,
nor did your truth
ever drip from fear-tainted quill

your story lingers
not on the cover ~
you never made it through
the cracks that hold a symphony
of old & worn

your story lingers
in paper cuts, resonant
on eager fingers, now stilled ~
then
I still had reason
to decipher you.