The bard with no tales

The words stare at me, Stay put, far away, in the Corner of creativity; the rivers Are frozen and the neurons Clogged. I go after them, ice pick in hand, And with blow after blow, break Off random rhymes That fall to the pages and Melt into islands of nothingness. My muscles beg for reprieve…

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Paper white

There is this game we play where silence speak volumes and affection is shortened into letters. In the spaces between, emotions are compressed, and cursory courtesies are code words that dissolve in vitreous humor and swim towards the amygdala to conceive happiness. I feel the first kick of loss when the silence stops speaking stretches…

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This sound will haunt me….

  The sound of flesh Ripped apart, leaving Jagged edges, the loudness Of the echo in the vacuum Left by two hearts Untangling. I stumbled into an invention As I watched my shadow shrink In inverse proportion to my Growing grief: Pain is a local Anesthetic. It numbed me, as I watched my chest Being…

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The florist

A friend is a field Of flowers Take a walk in it Let the beauty serenade You, let the fragrance fill Your heart. Do not pluck it It will wither And die: its beauty lies Rooted in its stalk. I will cultivate a field Of roses and delphiniums And plant rows of narcissuses At its…

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Sadness is a noun

Sadness is a door that opens Into nothingness; a noun, a state Of being. It exists in the absence of Joy. It is a room Full of lights with the switch turned off. Sometimes, the descent into darkness Is a jarring moment of sudden realization With silence so loud, it blinds. The memory Of pain…

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