I grew kinder as I grew older. Though everyone said that I would grow cold, I felt warmth take root in my soul, When I decided that I wouldn't be sold On the idea that what was done to me Was simply the way of the world.
Now That We’re Dead
How are you still alive and breathingWhen you haunt me as I’m dreaming?No contact since our indefinite separation,I expected to hear news on occasion.Now I wonder if we existed at all. Should I feel distressed or relievedThat we’ve become nothing more than a memory?Only digital records kept in social media posts,Red-eyed photos and half-forgotten jokes,Serve … Continue reading Now That We’re Dead
Growing Like Time
Houses germinate like weeds, Popping up- unwanted- in the fields. The overgrowth has altered the landscape. I dig through the new branches to find the routes- Roots to anchor the present to the soil of the past. The old dirt road has been paved. A thick layer of tar to smother memory lane. I glided … Continue reading Growing Like Time
I'm overrun with possibilities of what I could do, where I could go, and who I could be. Instead of making a choice- I freeze. So I can be all of these things and none of them, all at once.
I almost burned down my apartment Trying to erase the final traces Of the mistakes that I’ve made. But my memories only fade, Like the stupid line tattoo That took a year to remove. What’s been written can’t be changed. Stains in ink as black as sin, on the page and on my skin. Washed … Continue reading Stained Past
A Sprinkling of Nutmeg
Warm, woody and hearty; Like the old dinner table, Taking center stage in an ancestral home. Strong, full, and nurturing; Like a wise woman’s words. Ancient knowledge, preserved through time. Sweet, layered, and addictive Like a lover’s first kiss. It taste’s unparalleled, but beware the dose.
I collect hobbies like trading cards. Relishing the thrill of the hunt for for a new pass time to expand my collection. I cycle through my passions like photos. Flipping through an album, never resting on one page longer than a beat. I hoard potential like a child hoards shells. Putting them on display or … Continue reading Hobby Collector
Winter White Sky
The winter sky is white As the milky waters of Lethe. The stark clouds blend into a horizon: No beginning and no end, Like oblivion. The impervious sky, The impersonal snow, Blur the lines of heaven and earth. A void without warmth. A void without memory. A void without emotion. Only the bliss of nothingness.
The Cold Moon
The cold moon rises in a lifeless sky. Silver as the winter, Bright as a midnight sun, Shattering the darkness. Snow illuminates the landscape. A reflection of a reflection, A false dawn? Or heaven’s mercy on an endless night?
Spinning the Yarn
Can you capture a person in a handful of stories? Summarize a life in a few anecdotes? If our experiences are the threads that weave our lives, and tell tales turns back wheel of time, Do we continue to exist when the yarn is spun?