Poetry

"What am I?" I wonder. I wonder if I am even a man. I do not know. I only know that I feel defeated— to the marrow of my bones, to the depth of my soul, to the furthest corners of my heart and mind, as though a piece of me has quietly died. I remember writing once: "I must learn not to want what blooms without me." Yet the ache remains, rooted...

Dear Brad, I'm sorry I'm late. I was busy through your last days. I'm sorry I didn't check. After failing June, after a clean May, I crawled back to the songs YouTube would recommend— "Here Without You," and then the comments. What I read there, I still can't bear. I really thought you'd live. I believed miracles could happen. I knew it was...

House for sale Out in the cold but I don't want that house to be sold The cold didn't sting when you lived within It's warm electric glow soaking into my skin That house wasn't you but it was your place and someone new inside feels like desecrating your space I half thought when you left the house would go too like it was your body an extension...

Sometimes silence feels necessary, but not endurable, even if it’s a choice we both agreed on. The silence we chose to stop it from blossoming, our elixir, which could turn to poison for those who mattered more. But as time has passed, I rue my awkwardness, ruining the only true connection we had, by never showing you who I really was. There was...

do you feel it? as you walk slowly through the dark, in this fallen neglected labyrinth of the mind, where mold and filth fester upon crumbling walls, and rainwater seeps and falls like tears of the damned, this once great building now diseased and decaying, a parody of the minds once entombed within, can you hear the echoes of the screams? from...

Shivering spring blues thaw into summer gold, You're too far gone for me to ever hold, But never will I ever forget the day When I left goldenrod on your grave. And if I could pray for anything at all, I'd pray I can join you when summer turns to fall.

Through your heart, two lands go— One too deep, the other too bold. What do you choose? The tatters of leaves, or muds of gold? Reckon we already know: Truth is uncomfortable, so lies are sold. Let’s paint the glasses all gold— She won’t see it now, It won’t be known. By the time she awakes, The gold will be blown. And where do I stand? Searching...

the saddest part of dying is what you forgot to do the ideas born in lucid dreams that vanished in the hue the mountains never seen the oceans never crossed the poems written on scraps of paper a lover's smile now lost the tears you held inside the chances never taken the landscape of your life an oasis now forsaken

As I stroll through the park, mindlessly, I see a child swing his backpack, hopping toward the swings, light and free. Behind him, his mother follows, matching his eager steps. He suddenly stops, his gaze fixed— not on the boy soaring high, feet kicking the sky in joy, but on the father behind him, hands steady, laughter echoing, as a mother...

Night falls upon us, shadows entwined, Darkness surrounds us, a blanket unkind. The whole world stands still, in silence we tread, As fear wraps its arms ‘round the thoughts in our head. But lo! In the distance, a flicker, a spark, The light suddenly appears, dispelling the dark. A whisper of hope, like the dawn breaking free, Now we know...

It’s hard to deliver kindness My scars didn’t come from love, You dealt out judgments decreed From the one you served above. Perhaps I was just too different Or maybe just the same, Your youthful sins reflected In the syllables of my name. Thus, the soundtrack of my being Was a mournful melody, And my quest for your approval Was not the...

sometime in the early 60's when I was still that near-empty canvas about to be painted the dark strokes began the old man with the long grey hair dirty beard and tattered clothes digging through the trash outside the Smithsonian during a first grade field trip we all stared...no words spoken no explanation from our teacher that is my first vivid...