She might not be as good as she thought.
you threw me into minefield of your happiness our history burnt
By My Name Is Not Cypress2 years ago in Poets
are tears red or blue? you no longer knows but you called me by my name.
By My Name Is Not Cypress3 years ago in Poets
wings flap in the flame the moth winced, so did you. was it worth it, love?
chrysanthemum swayed shaking its head to my tears six feet above you
I kept jars of air you breathed, hoping they'd last me the rest of my life.
like a crashing plane my keel, fin, my blood and bones all landed on you
I point at the sea my new favorite - the blue all because of you
You’re trapped in your nightmare You escape. You get away. You run to the keyboard, pouring out your fear your exhaustion
Tick... tock... Humans invented mirrors. Before that. There’s water. Blurry silhouettes were all we had of what we look like.
The birds on our roof are extra loud today. I hope that's the sound of cheer, not dismay. . Are they looking forward to May?
I rarely do but that day, when I had a second to breathe I looked up at the sky A squirrel scurried across the wire Against the blue, on top of the black, a tiny blob of moving gray
Knife in one hand. Blood on another. The puddle of red paint reflects my own eyes. Shaped like the waning moon. Something that made you swoon.
