When Mirrors Blink Some mornings, glass forgets my face and gives me someone new— a version half a frame to the left, a shade the wrong-hued you.
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
Cathedral of Cracks My heart was never marble, never spotless, never sure; It’s brick and plaster, rent-controlled, resistant, and half impure.
I was born twenty years too late to save a woman already unraveling. the apparent and ignored firestorm I came into the world a decade after the warning signs,
By Cadma2 months ago in Poets
Letters to the Unsent I’ve written you in weathered ink and drafts I never name, in subject lines that start with truth, then backspace into blame.
Hands Full of Weather I wake with thunderstorms in wrists, with drizzle in my knees, a barometer behind my eyes that never quite agrees.
Quiet Like Fire You thought that strength was thunder—fists, a storm against the door, A battle cry on every breath, a boot across the floor.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
The rain speaks in a tapping code on rooftops and on window glass, a language that the earth has known since ancient clouds began to pass.
By The 9x Fawdi3 months ago in Poets
Our digital footprints never fade, Like ghosts in silent servers kept, The comments and the posts we made While all the world around us slept.
The Deep Thinkers Who Breathe Through the Storm Part Two An Outstages Cafe They speak in sparks, not shallow streams,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 months ago in Poets
Borrowed Spine I wore my fear like a second skin, all wrinkle, no design, until the day I stood up straight on someone’s borrowed spine.
A wicked tongue burns, turning flames into melted candle wax, as you tell me to hold tight to the flames with the barest of hands
By K.H. Obergfoll3 months ago in Poets
I speak in rhymes and mysteries Because that’s how I think My brain shittles riddles because it titillates my neurons It is how I do my best to get along in this world
By Atomic Historian3 months ago in Poets
