Tag: poetry
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cracked perfection
“I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers. We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin. Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.…
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HOW DO I
HOW DO I How do I sleep with voices in my head – telling me what to do, what to say, who to love in a torrential rain of unspoken words, this cascade of love misplaced from desired keepers whose intentions long expired; all memories are deadweight. How do I sleep with footsteps in my…
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the best memories
The best memories remain when the worst are forgotten. None is as great a peacemaker as time, that simmers sharp pangs to a dull ache of the heart and wipes all slates clean when the pain comes to pass. The best memories upholds the smile when the tears are gone. A gunshot with its reverberations inadvertently…
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the fields are frozen gold
As though ten winters have passed since we arrived, thin ice beneath our heels, snowflakes in our breath. Lucent white in ten miles’ sight no sign of impending summer. Yet somebody dreamt of this perfect world. Such a waste of lush green pastures every leaf chilled to the very spine – botanical shards of piercing ice.…
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__ staring into space
Head on with the crowd, realizing my neighbour has passed on, I’m trapped standing between both our gates, trying to find the right empathetic words to say, and it could only be “I’m sorry.” I meant to say a whole lot more – so much easier to churn out four thousand words of cold hard…
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how I go to the woods
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” “How I go to the woods Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable. I don’t really want…
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before the street begins
“Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.” ― Shel Silverstein, from Where the Sidewalk…
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181. all we find are altars in decay
“Backward we traveled to reclaim the day Before we fell, like Icarus, undone; All we find are altars in decay And profane words scrawled black across the sun.” ― Sylvia Plath
Viktoria Jean 