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Ghost

I see you standing next to me in the mirror,

but all you have is hollow eyes and an empty smile.

Are you a husk or a dream?


You are the raindrops weaved between the rustle of leaves

and the lullabies I don't remember.


The shadows I cannot see in the dark

and the rainwater specked on moving cars.


Like stars hiding behind clouds

and burning paper trails.


From ashes to ashes

and dust to nothing.

Poetry: Text

50

One shot and you’re gone.

But nobody listens.

Shot after shot.
I’m drunk.
I’m drunk off grief.

One person. One gun. One bullet.
One shot.
You’re gone.

My numbing heart aches with unsurprising loss
And still it catches me off guard.

​

Nobody should be afraid to pray.

Nobody should be afraid to learn.

Nobody should be afraid to be human.

How many prayers can save you from this?
How many graves must we dig?

How many shots did you take?
Just one.
One too many.
Still far too many.

Poetry: Text

Bounty Hunter

Gripped by fortune, swayed by love.

I throw my worth out and hear a splash.

It's shallow


I make my amends for you in my dream.

It's colder in my mind than when treated with silence.

And still it haunts my heart.


Are you that coin in the wishing well?

Or a walking ghost in debt of a million?

Poetry: Text

Taint

Figure like broken slabs,
my bloodstains on your shirt.
Take me to the ledge tonight
Where I can feel your soft pale hands around my neck.

They're cold.

Water washes the pink away
as I sit under the nimbus.
Berate my tongue under your breath
when I speak your mind.

No whys.
But I feel the need to explain.

Silence breaks the flow and cries.
Still you caress my soul with gentle sparks
that illuminates the waterfall.
It blights under the permafrost.

Blessed, it is.

Poetry: Text

Red

You're a timeless display in my lucrative exhibition;

A taboo romance for the masses.


Like a secret hidden behind rose tinted glasses

Or a burning paper trail that leaves neither smoke nor ash but a musk


Still you make a ruckus in my heart;

A blanket of white noise that leaves me flushed.


Am I the one stuck on you like jigsaw pieces that don't fit together?

Or are we making a whole different puzzle?


Take off your wine-stained shirt and tell me what we are but childish and raw

with bruises, cuts and barbed tongues.


Tell me, can you tell when my breath staggers?

When my chest plummets and we're both kids again?


Because there I am, next to your red lava lamp and I feel your body bleed into mine.

Poetry: Text

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