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Against This Present Darkness

Eyes rise and fall
with simple shading of clouds
upon a face;
a bowed head
seeking shelter
from raging tempests;

from love’s ache.

Night comes quietly
like snowflakes in winter;
like the whisper of psalms
​ beyond candlelit curtains.

I keep your words with me
soft syllables of grace,
sweet shelter

in the midst of my storm.

~

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Cleansed

I used to wait for rain
stand, palms up, pleading
for earth to fall away

so I could bloom;

sat under that weeping willow
many a Sunday, sleeping
under the swish of limbs,
tremble of railroads
echoing at my back-
ears attuned
only to cardinal’s song
to fade the noise
of Monday coming,

It took years of suffering
to open my wings,
to close the umbrella
to feel the son;

to feel the sun.

~

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Love Letter #43: Finding You

I happened upon your syllables,
between pages of love poetry,
drew hearts around the letters
of your name, following mine
and filled myself

with a new perspective.

I watched a flirtatious moon
and its surrounding stars
dance a delicate finale,
blue as midnight,

like the dreams formulating
in my head

and as the sun rose,
like a swirling of skirts,
all of the faded wildflowers
I walked past before,
bloomed at my feet,

pink as these blushed cheeks
that rose and fell
for you.

~

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Charcoal Outline

If shadows could speak,
mine and yours would converse
about the fragile life
​of daffodils,

the softness of constellations
and the way light billows
through strands of our hair;

silhouettes sleeping

within the length
of one another.

~

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Arranging Flowers

He didn’t carve initials
in that oak tree we lay beneath,
but, we tasted syllables.
rolling off the tongue,
from his lips to mine
and back again,
quenching our thirst
with the juice of poetry
dripping down pink curves;
fingers finding metaphor
within tangled limbs-
searching for alliteration
in a handful of wildflowers;
breaths meeting
in the middle
of love’s sentence

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Morning Glory

 

Oh, light, posing promise,

                        like posies,

        picked apart, strewn;

             hidden,

        like morning glory,

 

                                blooming

                below bedroom windows.

 

Oh, jealous moon

     tempting twilight,

        with its scattered stars

 

         swirling,

 

  like the thoughts

         you left me with.

~

2

Faded Simile

I.

There are syllables swirling
blown through fingers
like kisses to the heavens;
love letters
running through my veins.

I tape poetry to my eyelids
and wake up in verse;

simile swirling in my coffee cup.

II.

There were pages penned
in a candlelit room;
notebooks hidden under the covers,

glass slipper rhymes
composed of dreams
in condensation
from weary eyes
and a faded simile.

III.

I saw your footprints
beneath disappearing ink;
snow covered paths you cleared
with loving sentences
fingertips brushing cheeks

lips upon quivering lips.

IV.

You never ended with question marks,
or frowned
upon ambiguous behavior,
you just stood
beside me, held me up

lay me down in wildflowers
like a gift
under the sun.

V.

I am broken, battered,
but devoted.
I am troubled, excitable, flawed,
but forgiven.

I stand,
even when I feel frail
smile,
mimic petals of a rose;

bloom, wilt,
and bloom again