How do you miss me while you’re sleeping? Is it in the way your breath catches, your soul aches; when darkness plunges your room? I bet it’s lonely over there darling. It must kill you to not have me. It rips me apart, makes it hard to breathe while I hear your voice…
I kissed you last night So cruel the world is to me that it shall have your lips on mine Only in my dreams
I often think about many things. My mind is always in a constant rage of thoughts, particular feelings, spoon fed poetry that keeps me awake at night. Last night I dream up sunflowers, I fancied the idea that their petals plucked gold, they struck plasma casting leaflets onto my husks. Yellow smiled back…
Do you know what it feels like to not be missed I couldn’t even begin to trace the outlines of my sorrows Those haphazard days They were menacing my loneliness kept me in a freight It shook me up made glee out of my grief I miss that delight
Perhaps I have dreamed too often of grasping you longing for those subtle stares the moonlight casting in the window while I trace every freckle you hold I wish I could capture all that the moonlight touches roam freely my hands on every inch of your skin it’d be like touching magic
You had eyes like the raging sea airy moons It was either soft ceruleans or dappled iron Freckles of speckled suns the orb of Neptune Two hundred and fifty years until we are switched A sharp crescent of Pluto is what you become I still dream of…
I search for you like birds do the clouds With strips of noctilucence and bitters of cotton I’d follow you on the mare’s trail
I fear that the darkness might swallow me whole one day I watch those shadows gather in my room transpiring against that resplendent sheen I once held They glow with such an intensity Those demons have embers in their eyes sun rays in their talons goldmine incisors And I’m terrified…
I was the byproduct of my environment Polluted and disoriented Rough concretes and twisted lead that make up cluttered saclike captivities that we burrow in We call it home although it is just a house There are no fond memories here Only bullet paved windows and exhausted blinds…
I’ve missed you coming into my dreams like this That silver tongue of yours could cut me like a summoning Strip me down until I’m reveling on wicked knees My sobs of worship a benison for your praise
I had a dream once. One that consisted of butterflies swarming around a chain of daisies. There were lilacs and daffodils blooming high in a field that danced with the summer wind. Their petals laughed at the sun, seeming to cry out for its warmth, for their growth. It was a…
Éloa 