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Literature Text
the sky whispers,
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
alone.
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
raven,
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
me.
Literature
love poem for a poet
and if you ever complain
of writer's block
I will hold you
your chest pressed to mine
close and warm and quiet
and trace every word
that's been eluding you
onto the blank page
of your back
Literature
Drizzling
The grey glaze of a
pre-dawn chorus —
blackbirds,
and an overcast aubade.
Literature
Museling
Red wine rambles
curdle the air, but still
you dream; half-moon
body curled in the
lamp light. I am leaving,
I am leaving, choking on
some holy word—
the floorboards creak,
a sonata for my
changeling shadow
whilst you, hair tangled upon
the pillow, are spun gold.
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Comments50
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The images in this are quietly beautiful. Birds and dawn and crystalline quiet skies. Also, angel dust is the prettiest phrase. Colloquial terms for drugs are not usually so poetic.