Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics

“In my heart, time stands still. Nothing changes, nothing grows… no matter how deep I go, I can’t cut myself free from you…”

This is how our world ends,

In that space between a heartbeat

And where our worst thoughts

Are lost into open air.

Isn’t it strange how acute

A simple sound can be?

How an uneven pitch can cut

The same as any knife?

Lines we set in sturdy stone

Are whittled down into dust,

Nothing more than a granite coat

Sprinkled onto cotton twine.

Faced with your whetted tongue,

You flay every boundary and beyond.

Our dreams are red confetti,

Quickly drying into tinder,

And it’s with the bitter taste

Of irony at its best

That we ignite our pyre

With the same spark

We once believed

Was love.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“Pain is unavoidable, and sooner or later everyone reaches a breaking point. It’s okay that you’re broken, because being broken means you can be fixed.”

I am drawn to you,

Like starlight to black nights,

Or else the rough sea

To a sailors dreams.

If I am to continue,

My darling, I do so

From your spark

It has ignited the tinder,

Shaved from my chest,

Giving rise to a heat,

A roaring light.

You’ve gifted me the Sun,

And with it a simple hope,

That even though I am alone

I can find my own way home.