Soul
The outline of my soul
splashed on a canvas
exists only in my imagination
wavelengths of light
in disappearing edges
perceptions of my intensity
undertone and luminosity
extracting meaning
from my world
heat of my body
color of daylight
iridescence of energy.
Stolen kisses
Soft kisses, like feathers
touching my lips,
ignite buried feelings
and forbidden passions
Look for the Good
Open your eyes to the good things around you. Search for the good because it’s there, and sometimes it takes more effort to find it.
Today I'll live for you.
Live for me too.
We'll live a life so great.
Each day we will breathe our greatness towards others.
We'll live for them too.
And they will live for us.
a collection of jagged things
i think about
the mirrors that shatter
and the bones that are broken
the edges that are torn
and the words that are left unsaid
all of them
connected by a thread
vastly different
but the same in their jagged incompletion.
each of them dangerous
each of them tragic
begging to be caressed to softness
yet drawing blood at the first touch.
it is not my fault that my soul is jagged edges
or tragedy weaponized
and i can’t explain how it feels
other than pointing to these images
of sharp, broken things
that long to be whole.
yet still i long
and i always will.
Diamond Bracelets
flashes and flickers
of endless stars
shimmering, blinking
mounting heavens
illuminating wanderers below
traveling desolate paths
boundless, endless, infinite
blue cold winks
diamond bracelets
forming reveries
on moonlit floors
shining primal radiance
in silver choruses
of voice lanterns
dreams floating
beyond our world
lighting a sky
full of fleeting wishes.
this is healing
i never have been patient.
a cut takes a few days to heal
a scrape, maybe a few more
but when something breaks-
-well, that’s never happened to me before.
i’d imagine it takes a long time
waiting for those broken bones to heal
but like i said, i wouldn’t know
and can’t imagine how it must feel.
yet, what is it called when winter becomes spring?
could that not also be called healing?
what is barren, broken, mere dust
empty, colorless, so lonely, so gray
what do you call all these things
that recover from decay?
how could it be anything else
this rebirth, this miraculous mending
how could it be anything other
than healing
which begins with pain ending?
perhaps i do know what it is
to heal from a broken thing
my heart was broken once
yet winter still became spring.
it is april now
and with it, come the showers
but someone told me long ago
the rain will bring you flowers
so now, here i am, waiting-
-no, dancing in the rain
i never have been patient
but i think that i can change.
