DYSFUNCTION

Beautiful sunsets shared together

When the horizon lit up swirls of silver

The same hue radiated beneath his ashen arms

Comforting cold embraces stolen at inviting, derelict barns

Flightless hummingbirds seeking nectar in parched flower cup

A story of a persisting malady the festive guitar strings conjured up

The happy twosome ambled along the frozen beaches

Languished kisses amidst the linear chaos a sodden morning sky unleashes

And yet, there was magic in the tragic, joy in the wretched

Romanticizing dysfunction as love holding on tight to passions tepid

 

 

 

A DAINTY MURDERESS

A feeling of desolation about her got his attention

He thought he could resuscitate her with his affection

He was vulnerable to her outward china fragility

Too fast too soon he showed pliability

Her rabbity way of nibbling her lower lip was popular with him

Soon to fall in love, he was seized by a romantic whim

From the tentative holding of hands, necking and fumbling around

To the battle of zippers and buttons, excursions to ghost-towns

He barely saw her conscience hung over her fireplace

She colonized him with her smooth words, pearls, and fancy lace

Watching him light-headed and foolish in her presence

Her eyes sparkle with glee and vanity immense

Not lost to her that he is a man to love

Bizarre, how heartache once made something inside her just shut off

So she plays him like a sport while he tries to stitch her

Little does he know of the corpses stowed away in her freezer

A love-sick dreamer forgoes to see 

The red that she painted the city in with her killing spree

They celebrate their twisted fates drinking margarita

Delicately she murders him, whispering in his ears "mea culpa"

AN ESCAPE PLAN

Long-time clamped in our private traps

Sparring in vain, in the air we scratch

All we need is a sweet escapade

Far away from this crowded concrete maze

Waltz away to a world of romantic allure

Our lyrical souls saunter in a fairy lore

Far away from this absolute bedlam

We surrender to this moonshine winsome

In a lavender haze we can breathe each other

Against the nullity of our existence in fields vast and amber

We lose ourselves in those starry nights     

only soon to be found before sunrise

Drunk on the cloudy possibility we kiss

Fight against the time and be young and remiss

From our broken minds and hearts we prayed long for this release
While hurting and mending each other; rinse, repeat.

IN HER DEFENCE

She finally ripped off the bandages and let the wounds breathe.

Unapologetic of choosing to repair of what they broke, she bought herself time to heal.

They cannot peg her for emotionally stunted just because she doesn’t have abandonment issues anymore.

Her personality change is not a pathology they can pride themselves on having diagnosed.

She picks her own battles today and finds nothing worth gratuitous self-flagellation.

She has evolved as the underdog warrior you wished you wagered on not led astray by your ill-founded assumption.

They find her new-found strength out of character.

Suffice it to say, she does not need anyone to validate her.

If you borrow my lens, her petite stature gets augmented by my perspective.

May be we all have to be a little messed up before we step up and turn assertive?

The art of moving on doesn’t lend itself well to the practice of keeping old friends.

Some folks can only see one in the state of emotional shambles on one’s beam ends.

So she leaves behind a trail of bruised memories, questioning faces and old strife.

She tenaciously got herself to first base with life.

Yet there are no bridges they wouldn’t burn, no earth they wouldn’t scorch to bring her to her alcoholic bottom.

As time goes by, the grief contains itself with her face no longer wine-sodden.

That old sore is a bold scar on her frame she wears as a badge of honor.

Unbeknownst to many, one dreamy night she was reborn upon wings gossamer.

BUTTERFLIES

Her mouth whispering in nearly silent accompaniment

Her footsteps can be traced to a musical merriment

Where they all create a dulcet symphony

Sanity is not a choice for her as they make rhythm of her poetry

Among all, he strums gently before he croons a song

She sees those eyes outshining the throng

Love-sick, as luck would have it, she can’t hold this racing feel

She resigns to the restlessness that will follow the fortune’s wheel

How profoundly little she knows about how he feels

Will Venus get him to fall head over heels

Like a wordsmith she could even charm her way out of a bullet so far

Speechless though now, she stares at the night sky looking for a shooting star

She has never paid court to anyone but him

Love-struck follow no protocol but whim

His melodies brighten her life aspiring trust eyes

Guilty as charged he gave her butterflies

WHY NOT BE STRANGERS?

What broke was heard too loud at a distance of miles

We were tongue-tied, catatonic, defeated with pain beyond cries

Went back and forth a few rounds of accusation and questions

Finally transcending an understanding flouting all reasons

A strange part of ours still flourishes in each other’s spiritual cores

One day we’ll shed our mortal coils healing our hurtful sores       

Till then we part our ways and presume to be strangers

Pretend not to hear those melodies of lost hearts, be content playing vagabond rangers

Let this light blind us so we don’t see a shadow of each other

No hopes, no desires, no expectations would not harm either

When you are met with novel warmth in strangeness

Why not wear those swanky masks and venture into new wilderness

Where we see no trace of each other’s tear-stained visage

Let’s honor what we had by paying an unthinkable homage

Sobbed enough standing helpless at opposite sides of a deadly door

Let’s bottle in our hearts and bury in the deeps what sustained us before

The mist of time will obscure the love, putting off the past flames.
We’ll be each other’s psychic healers as we molt our fleshly frames.

EMPTY UTOPIA

Empty utopia never meant to be inhabited

Such dreamy hearts playing architects of a low ilk

They conjured an illusory order to those gossamer castles

Concealing the murderous reality, writing those wishful fables

Patent crevices on those flimsy structures ignored

Grim shards of skin spread where the dead ghosts roared

Dead with no face assume a deceptive appearance

Sharp claws betray the marks of the beasts in reference

Lofty dreams all gone by an unruly maelstrom

Cradling the monsters in those tattered clothes dancing feverishly in a prom

A world once ripe with warmth, now brims with shadows drowning consciousness in path

What fills the sight is a sad fate of discarded bones of absent lovers,

And a jaundiced bequest of want possessing the cadavers

Two specters trampled under the stomping feet of obvious choices

How the monopoly time once choked their cooing voices

They still live as a jumble of ghosts under the myth of salvation

Their stitches toying with their wounds, flaunting abject privation