Ruin

Dearest man of my heart;

I know that words from me are as insubstantial as smoke.

I know that my promises are one shade of purple short of black for I’ve bent and broken far too many.

I know that my need for you is an iridescent vibration of truth.

I know that I feel you, crsytalline, at my very core.

I know that weeks might go by without word from you but when that silence breaks it’s like the fertile smell of soil beneath a chrome-yellow sun.

I know that I taste that welcome sound of you like a flavor of air; hot, like sun-scorched blacktop.

I know that I long to be saturated in you; taken into the darkest of your waters until day sours towards bitter twilight.

I know that one day we shall dance beneath cotton sheets, graceful as starlight at the edge of night, for we, you and I, are meant to be.

I know that I love you.

Now tell me, love, what do you know?

I love love love love love this.

Wait there
for the moon-silver landscape.
Wait there
as it pulls all shadows east.
Wait there
as the night floods with crimson.
Wait there
as the leaves sweep the streets.

Weathered rocks, asleep and dreamy,
hard as iron, gritty gray.

Basted sky, with braids of yellow,
breathe a breath of brand new day.

I stand in light, no longer warming,
minutes burning, time aflame.

My heart, it thunders like a herd;
you’ve left and I am not the same.

Day turns to dark ashes
as feathery shadows
unwind quickly;
the spring of night’s watch.

Elliptical slivers
of cool moon-filtered light
pierce my window
then ripples in veils.

I pray for the sunlight
and the wind-polished sky,
dappled whispers
my cat tries to catch.

Red trumpet vines flourish
in soft stillness pooled deep
as the star salted sky
gently sails.

Put out the sun,
draw down the shades,
raise the dull, cloudy sky,
get me out of this place
to where wild grass fades
and winter snow flies
as wind stokes smoking ruins
until ash burns the eyes
and there I shall die,
‘neath a sky frigid blue
for there’s no point to living;
no point to me without you.

Ill with the flu.
Tucked in bed watching this.
If I were a blonde, I’d be legally blonde.

Send soup.

(Embedding disabled. Bleh. Click HERE to watch.)

No sides nor walls.
No base nor form.
The wind blows through,
you can’t keep warm.
A hollow castle
with no king.
Your empty words
don’t mean a thing.

I see it now.
You weren’t the man.
Rough waters came.
You let loose.
Ran.
Stood on shore
to watch me drown,
then turned your back,
went into town;
dry shoes, dry clothes,
dry eyes, no tears,
you drown yourself
in one more beer.

I wish that I were just a cat.
I’d tuck in grass, eat well, get fat
and everyone would stroke me sweet,
not kick at me with bitter feet.