|I'm a poet who occasionally draws.|
daughter's dishonorit's not the preparationdaughter's dishonor by LatchkeyGirl
or the base we'll be calling home
that shrieks in my head like chased prey
but the sound of trees dropping fruit
and losing leaves.
what a scream.
but what could be worse than this?
my old man, the old man,
not wise, or grown, just old.
no kind words any more for me,
the seeds you sowed between us
grow strong in the hot black sun.
I won't live like you have,
a youthful buck on the side of the road
for months, rotting.
atrophy's your middle name, right?
but promptness is ours
and it will take less than 48 hours all told
for me to disappear from your life,
even if I crawl away,
plucking pins and needles and bits of eggshell from my feet.
I'll remember this
with the clarity of a child's memory,
and a new name I can use to forget yours.
moving ondear you, little white friend,moving on by LatchkeyGirl
would that life were easier,
would that finding comfort in your arms
was a real answer instead of a distraction.
when your superman dons his monochrome,
hides in his fortress, is his own kryptonite,
you lay in bed and wonder
why do I even read comic books anymore
packing my suitcase, get out the back Jack,
a sort of mourning without death,
I was an orphan before the death of my parents
I was always staring up at this ceiling, from day one
I have so much hope for new beginnings
even if as my life is starting, yours is ending
your loss will be as a leaf in autumn,
your body the mulch that feed's next summer's green
so many days I spent in a haze of childhood
the cells have died and I'm a new beast
running and jumping and flying and chancing -
until I finally curl up, in my home, in the ground.
promiseI have heaps of lover's sighspromise by LatchkeyGirl
you hand me in the dark
They carry me through the day
and I wake up with a genuine reason -
a rope I pull myself on
that leads into our future.
But I want to know,
were you serious?
I'll throw myself into our life -
but if you meant it,
stars and stars and stars.
Bone dust, sugar.
I know the feeling,
so I can't say anything
but kiss your face and hold your hand.
When your train comes,
I'm on it, babe.
We'll be together forever.
fragranthe was an unscented,fragrant by Blueskye27
Ivory soap kind of guy
who liked white socks
faintly tinged with Clorox
so when she drifted into
his life like a hint of mimosa
on a summer breeze,
he was unprepared
for mornings fragrant
with the tang of lemongrass
and brown-sugared figs
nights redolent with cherry
blossoms, herb-tinged eucalyptus,
but he learned that
sometimes life demands
hearts as intertwined
as tangled vines and lives
chaotic with living
of loving without fear
even when afraid