Truth was shredding
through the darkness
like the sun kisses the
stars awake, blending
shades of words into
wisdom and feelings,
cutting through edges
of blackened dust by
the fiercest of kisses;
truth lies in the dark
shadows, softened by
a denial of the unseen,
where words can hide
emotions and actions,
destroying any hope
of a peaceful recovery.
I thought I had your heart,
all this time I was calling it
mine, still believing that our
memories had been painted
on the walls of your heart in
crimson shades of the golden
days when a whisper was all
that it took, more than just a
look and I was yours and you
were all mine – but with days
fading, and the paint chipping
away, I ask myself how long
I shall be allowed to stay…
Bury me in the autumn,
propped against the dying
willows, so I can whisper
alongside them until the
mornings end – carry me
past the river, where the
roots are growing plenty,
caught inside the daze of
my lengthened goodbyes.
Remember me in autumn,
when the trees have faded
into whispers beyond the
river, where the age of my
innocence and youth still
linger in the roots; and if
the winds shall no longer
reach the willows, miss
me, in my final goodbye.
In the broken night sky,
nestled between the stars
are wishes placed during
those long hours waiting
on the rays of a forgotten
sun, when love appears to
be infinite against colors
reflected off the minds of
the dreamers and believers;
let us be wanderers, left to
the curious and undecided,
with creativity as our guide
beneath the broken shards
of starlight, dreaming of
the love from the moon.
I blocked out words
falling from my lips
in blue ink stains on
the page; where my
imagination was left
to fight back words
attempting to escape,
I sought out freedom
from the truth, all the
while still dreading
the certainty of losing
myself inside broken
verses strewn across
the page, littered in
ramblings and debris
of a story not my own.
I crave poetry set inside
rhythms of jazz and blues,
where the beats lay golden,
scattered between riffs and
the subtleties of life, gently
soothing in the breaks and
limits deeply rooted in the
foundation set by a trumpet
and her sax; swaying in and
out of each storyline in verse
in a tantalizing flow of words,
serenaded by jazz, and love.
I’ll meet you at the edge
of the sunset, between the
wishes and mislaid dreams,
where the sun and moon are
dancing, exchanging glances
passed around like whispers,
subtle and never seen; where
colors are blending into stars,
floating higher than the night,
casting shadows of our hearts
into stories shining bright – I
will meet you soon, my love,
where the moon and sun are
free, dancing on the horizon
just waiting for you and me.
Storylines in Verse 