When you speak to me,
Your words turn into butterflies
That surround me, lovingly.
-
-
He dances with the beast under a dim street lamp in perfect synchrony, but only one can be seen. Cold rain commences; the tears start to stream. He dances wildly to expel the darkness and temper the misery. The beast continues to dance, but in agony, loudly he wails, painfully.
-
In his suffering she held him and listened to him,
And in that instant, his heart started mending,
Leading to lasting healing, and loving longing—
And on the evening she kissed him, he wept,
and said, you are always what was missing;
And he held her in his arms from the twilight, until morning,
Whispering loving utterances as the tears streamed from joyous crying,
And on that day, after a beautiful dawning,
She became his everything. -
In and out of consciousness, before she left, she reached for her son, who wept with his head turned, and in that moment, she released all the pages of her depths, so that even in death, he could hold onto her; and with all the strength she had left, she lovingly whispered three words to him, while wiping away the tears of his weeping, in her last breaths.
-
The gauntness of flesh is the cruelty of illness.
Stillness of tormented bodies at 4 AM
is not sleep, but unceasing listlessness.
The wounded heart is known through
many tears and sincere utterances.
Unsightly scars denote the attempted escape
from unbearable agony;
Under dim lighting in a small room with heavy curtains,
a trembling insomniac moves slowly.
In pitch darkness, the sorrowful hold onto
banisters in cold temperatures, wailing uninhibitedly;
The chief torment of the anxious mind is life’s uncertainty.
From birth to death—in-between,
the afflicted struggle for breath.
Even in their mother’s wombs
babies become stressed;
Stillborn babies are kissed,
given names, and mourned.
In late cold December winters,
distressed hearts are torn.
Unsettling letters are received before they grieve
starting with, We regret to inform …
In the pregnancy of the void
some wither away, and some are reborn.
The soul’s balm is the healing of love;
But from its inception it must be pure—
and unadulterated in the properties of its medicine.
A winter baby is delivered from her dying mother’s womb,
and through blood and pain, life begins again.
-
You cover me, like freshly laundered white linen
over varnished rosewood tables;You cover me, like an abandoned child
protected under the mighty hands of the archangels;You cover me, like a black veil over the face of
a grieving widow in agony, with the residue of pain
that was left behind silently on her pillows;You cover me, like shade from the heat of the sun
under the tears of a weeping willow;You cover me, like the broad wings of the Harpy Eagle
diligently hovering over her young;You cover me, like the ozone layer over the earth,
protecting her from the sun;You cover me, like a newborn
under the doting eyes of his mother’s embrace;You cover me, every time you wipe away my tears
and gently kiss my face. -
Passionate kisses and sincere promises
Lead to transcendent intimacy
On soft champagne colored comforters
In a canopy bed, with white curtains,
And white lights that surround us.
Rose petals fall from one hundred white roses in purple vases.
A goddess bathes in milk and honey,
And sees through brown eyes with natural lashes;
Her tone of voice are a thousand peaceful rivers;
French perfume on shimmering skin amazes;
Black hair flows over violet silk as she gazes.
Subtle sensuality is the wave that moves
Over a strong euphoric undercurrent;
In her stance, she is beheld as a living art piece,
Captured in different moments;
The beauty of her heart causes a wondrous radiance,
Like heaven’s light, illuminating the wings of the angels.
She captivates the eyes of strangers,
Causing hearts to dance, and thoughts to linger. -
Death whispers in cold breaths promising solace in the throes of agony;
I will take away the pain if you just let me.
Hair drapes over a chair in a dimly lit room at 2:30.
Faces in picture frames stare unemotionally.
Her makeup is perfect;
Her lipstick and lashes, immaculate.
Through a child’s eyes she would be a beautiful doll.
Her final act is the unabridged revelation of her torment.
In her unmasking there are no subtleties;
There are no whispers;
There are no mysteries to the state of her reality.
Lifelessness is displayed crudely;
Its finality is its cruelty.
Outside, early morning rain falls in darkness.
Inside, there is a preternatural stillness.
She is gone forever, leaving behind possessions,
And the blood of her essence.
She wept in her last moments, listlessly whispering
Words that no one could witness.
Tears that fell from her eyes,
Carried the agony of her remnants.
-
In their struggle for power they have lost their souls.
They have become husks of flesh
With no eyes in darkened sockets—
Flailing their arms in eternal darkness;
They climb one over the other, tirelessly,
Pursuing ascendancy doggedly.
With clenched fists, one by one,
They scream blindly,
Falling into the abyss. -
We will hold each other until our last kiss, when we are turned to dust, and the earth’s winds gently carry us and scatter our remnants among the fallen leaves, beautiful flowers and redwood trees; when the earth no longer spins on her axis in perfect balance like a beautiful ballerina on her toes in the company of an audience. In those moments, I will tell you that I love you, with immeasurable purity and the depths of infinite sincerity. At the twelve gates of heaven, look for me, and whisper the three words that you mean with all your heart; touch me—kiss me in light, and fall into my arms.
