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

If we were made out of the sky, I’d be the chilling wind, you’d be the Summer heat, and together we’ll form pockets of clouds, blocking out the Sun, throwing barrels of thunder and lightning over the edge of the world without a care.

Your lips were stained

The same shade as dandelions,

And I was caught up

In the promise of a short winter,

Where my wishes could be heard

Beyond the veil of stars,

Carried on those white seeds

That feel lighter than air.

 

A single taste was all it took

To reveal the obvious;

The scent of pine on your teeth,

The green edges of your tongue,

And the shimmering coat

I mistook as the reflection

Of a sweet spring flower.

 

You coated your lips

In the oil of distilled resin,

Making them shimmer in the sun,

As brilliant as any precious metal.

And in the end I gave in,

Letting my desires devour

The poison that was your kiss.

 

I can’t erase your taste,

So I’m afraid that with time

I’m slowly going to starve

In the allure of your turpentine.

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

If this was nothing more than destiny, that would be great. Then I wouldn’t have to blame it all on me.. (part 1 of 5)

I want destiny to taste

The last sliver of air

Netted in my lungs.

It’s Nitrogen imbued

With a wink of vinegar,

And a gasp of sour carbon,

Made all the more potent

By a throat varnished

In wood turpentine.