i woke with a poem in my head that i do not feel like sharing with a name on my tongue i have been silently whispering and a craving of which i cannot define some days are like this i clamp down on my secrets because i fear someone may steal them or laugh at […]
if the ceiling ever spilled the secrets i have spoken to it in the quiet time that shapes the universe your cheeks would flush crimson in the prose i couldn’t put to paper for fear of scaring you away the ceiling knows all my secret poems that i pen in wordless adoration as my soul […]
i don’t set out to write scene when i set out to write a poem, i don’t fret about syntax or word choice or really much of anything i let my finger trail in the waters around me picking up whatever fragments the song chooses to sing in hushed tones sometimes that is all it […]
she dances in front of the window a lone candle flickers behind her the light sends shadows across the lot to my apartment draws my eyes she dances unaware of my eyes upon her the way she sways as sinuous as the flickering light itself an intense eroticism i strain to hear the music that […]
nos racines sont profondesjuste comme mes pensées et son pull rouge ses racines en particulier nourri par les larmes et enterré comme tant d’espoirs mes pensées me manquent tout ce qui me remplit est la façon dont elle avait l’air ce jour-là son pull démêlé une traînée d’écarlate qui a suivi le vent est-ce que […]
somewhere in the sky a lone star looks down on both of us i whispered a secret to it for your ears only let me know when you hear it
i know a secret i fear i have said too much now you know a secret as well i won’t tell if you promise not to
Mike's Manic Word Depot 