I wish you could come and
sit next to me, this time
without words, only my
hand in yours, and we’d sit
for hours. And I believe
only in such warm silence
that we can begin to say
Tag: short poem
Poetry
is this tattoo on my left wrist,
transformed
from a ragged scar that once was
a wound that bled for years and years.
Poetry is making heartbreak beautiful again.
Untitled
Like a moth to a flame,
I, too, mistook you for a star.
sun kissed
the funny feeling of
an orange popsicle
trickling down
from fingers
to elbow.
A Story in 20 Words – 2
Standing at the Altar
He steals a glance at her.
She sits in the back, fighting tears.
The bride marches in, smiling, holding peonies.
Twelfth Piece
All she ever wanted was to fly into his constellations and become the brightest star.
Eleventh Piece
The white frost is gone.
The lemon tree has grown.
I want to talk to you about your heart
that you’ve been neglecting lately like a cold.
And you don’t even know.
The white frost is gone.
The lemon tree has grown
so much stronger since you were here
last spring with seeds, pebbles and a hope.
Ninth Piece
It was an ineffable moment
when she raised her eyes and met his gaze,
like a deer looking up from the plain
for an instant and finding berries.
Eighth Piece
The rain came ever so softly,
like the cat’s paw, or the wind-chime’s song
sung by a pair of sparrows on telephone pole.
I stayed up at night mending the lint-balled hem
of my heart that barely kept you warm last winter.
Time never stopped passing through the moth holes.
Out on the rain-soaked lawn, an old pair
of faded memories died tragically on the hangers.
I wrung them out while you, love and a raindrop fell.
On My Way Home The Rain Stopped
and suddenly, amid the familiar colors
of this nightfall, I remembered
your wine-stained lips,
our blueberry kiss.
Originally published on October 18th, 2015 on my old blog.
SW Altair 