Tag Archives: original poem

Red String of Fate (original poem)

The beauty of a flower couldbring me to my knees but the lookin your eyes when you smileleft me dead on my feet;I haven’t taken a breath since.Listen to me, I’m morbid butI’m loving. Too serious for games,grown weary with age of this constanttug o war with my red string of fate.Who are you onContinue reading “Red String of Fate (original poem)”

What is it Called? (original poem)

What is it called when you like pain?When the sting of it on your skinis a relief. When you can point to itand say this is where it hurts.When you can look at the markit left on you and understandwhere it came from. What is it called when you bruise easily?When every touch makes yourContinue reading “What is it Called? (original poem)”

Writer Who Can’t Find the Words (original poem)

I hate how I claim to be a writerbut can never accurately put into words how this emptinessinside me feels – More and moreI wish I could express it with mybody – I want to growl deep inmy throat like an alligator, snap myjaws and writhe on the ground inanger – I want to growContinue reading “Writer Who Can’t Find the Words (original poem)”

From the flower’s point of view, after Robert Frost’s poem Wind and Window Flower

I sat by the window every night waiting foryou to blow through, since you never stay long I’m desperate for even a glance.You would pause at my window and leavebehind tendrils of ice from your frosty kisses. Iwanted so bad to reach out, to feel the chillingsting of you on my skin. But then youContinue reading “From the flower’s point of view, after Robert Frost’s poem Wind and Window Flower”

Art piece poem: Boy and Moon, Edward Hopper

I once had a brother, though only I Remember him. We shared a room, almost Shared a soul even. Now both feel cripplingly Empty in his absence. A part of me stolen Away with not even a trace left in its wake. The incidents were always at 3 in the Morning. It began innocently enoughContinue reading “Art piece poem: Boy and Moon, Edward Hopper”