Unsung Melody

long nights (pro)cured the protagonist’s echoes;
those hours when we were too afraid of dawn,
too afraid to count out the seconds
& let time run its course

intricate shells were cracked wide open
by yet another clumsy footfall
& a lopsided smile, jauntily misplaced
beneath the floorboards

our teenage dreams stayed
rubber-stamped & swept away,
our secret a tangible thing —

(or was it)

Advertisements

Picture Frames (Haiku)

times long past live on
in the depths of a tea cup;
grandmother’s low voice

From Dust ‘Till Dawn

clouds crawl steadily
over your limp form; cracked & chipped
after the dismal desert storm —
it seems like yesterday
has not happened in ages

plastered to the dry dirt, transfixed
by a hyena’s lullaby
you wilt & wait
for forceful hands
to push you deeper

through clotted lips you conjure
a string of allurement, no wider than
a hair’s breath —
but sturdy enough
to get tangled up in.

you never intended
to drown alone.

Ti(d)e

there is sustenance in the wind;
though you left
(your whole world)
shuttered & dank,
it still
feeds the storm —
b(r)e(w)ing.

Jiminy Cricket

and there you are, churning the soft earth
where we buried you
with all the dignity
we could muster

Jiminy Cricket wore your shoes for a while,
but your footsteps were too hard to follow —
so he missed a step &
got back on track,
for better or worse

I am sorry you are still lost —
but there is nothing left to say
when all the answers
are ash & bone
& broken, too.

Colorblind

a cardboard-boxed wish,
labeled ‘undaunted’,
next to blood-red pumps,
long faded to rust (& ruin)

the old days —
when her heart still thundered
& the tip of her tongue
suffered no regrets

now
she wonders
if her lips
ever tasted like him.

___________________________
… based on the poem Escapade

|In|sanity

a thin, red line hides |in|sanity —
just to paper-cut those strands of hope
when you stray too far.

never will you notice
the sharp sting of heartbreak
when you are used to the shards

& the echo of your footsteps
will not seem less hollow
on this side of the story.

– cavity –

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 stray from
touching yours.

– age –

A(path)y

all his qualities came
in varieties of neon black;
neatly folded
into the creases of her exuberance.
her smile faltered
on the morning of their third year
& when push came to shove,
she shoved.

– black –