you crush our conjoined shadow
humming, not saying
a word, and dancing like
whispers in the forest,
soaring from the mist.
drunk, yet as light as
blue milk when it's hot,
and together
we cry at the mess
swiming above the sky
you see, death doth rust with
raw blood, with black
screaming "honey,"
"please, i am no sun, you knew
i could never really love,"
i've tried carving your name
in my skin, but it fades
like the sun on the horizon.
his blood drives me delirious.
bitter boy, won't you lick these
bare drunken screams at
the moon lake if i show
you the way?
my prisoner, come home
and dance, angel!
drink blue poison then kiss me
and our soft porcelain pictures.
try to remember our
last broken embrace, as
always. then we may die
and wake the ghosts from
the marble mornings.
a lifetime could not make him
believe in these mysteries -
who's to say that patterns
of smoke is so pretty?
destruction is destruction,
no matter the force.
but, as usual, i feel that
summer water breeze at night,
the one that
could always leave our
spirits as warm as a soft
wild blossom. i see
moss beneath daffodils,
wild vine between a
shaded path, hear murmurs like
pure peace as the clouded
air of dusk strikes against the
winter harmony.
and suddenly, love is no
longer enough.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryJust a small collection of a few of my works. Most of it is inspired by Supernatural and Sam and Dean. Richard Siken is also an inspiration for me.
