Category: Poetry
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Can Joy Be a Worthy Muse?
I wrote once: “I write my bestwhen I feel my worst—So please,fall in love with me again,then bring us to an end.Make my heart break openHelp me write again.” But what if I stopped waitingfor ruin to feel real? What if joy could stretch just as wide?What if stillness held something, too?What if there’s art…
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The Dull Ache and Craving to Create
I feel it often. Like I COULD be on the precipice of something, only if I… xyz: read something inspiring, watch something inspiring, see the exact RIGHT thing that will start me flowing. But what if, what IF, that FEELING is the feeling of wanting to create. Maybe that’s it, I’m there. I’m right on…
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Too Much for WordPress
Trust me, I don’t want to be the one to outsource my writing elsewhere, and try to lead you away from your preferred form of reading, especially since I’m so grateful to the few of you who read my writing at all, BUT. I’m not sure the themes I wrote about most recently are.. allowed…
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Make Believe Memories
Crisp air makes my skin rise And my mind fill w what may be memories Or simply fantasy Of white trimmed trees Gazed upon through frosted glass. Only a flame, and family Gently caressing its surface Bringing clarity to it all
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Coming of Age
Our love was that of a drunken splendor Sometimes even drug-induced Our love was a whirlwind of reciprocity Young love painted with the delights of innocence, And budding adulthood A true coming of age
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Spectrum of Love(?)
I don’t want to hurt anymore But love is fleetingCan’t it be?Or do I sound full of flippancy?Does my love for the spectrum of lovesMean I must be lonely? I don’t want to hurt anymore
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Opposing Attraction
I’m sorryI’ve long since stopped apologizingFor who I am,But here I am, doing it again.I’m sorry my soul is shielded in iceStrong enough that even the fire of you May not suffice.Break me, I beg you.Prove that you’re seeing me;That what you’re sayingIs true.
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Love Buzz
Let me drench you in my sweetnessSuck my nectar like a beeSpeak to me, your soulThen drive it into me
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Verbose
I’m on fire Begging to be held Filled If I could transport him to my bed I would I will not allow the intrigue to envelope me Not too fast Though in time It could
Avril Song 