are we men so insecure with ourselves that we must constantly treat women like lesser beings?
if that is the case, we are the weak ones.
sometimes when my brain is congested, it coughs, and words come out.
230rain will move things
around (and make them disappear)
little things
that you might not see
through a window;
all the lost petals
pink and
white
paper boats
and poems
i wrote for you
(and tossed out)
collecting somewhere
in a sewer grate.
My friend Amy is a finalist in the Write Bloody poetry contest, help her get published by going to her video on youtube and liking it!
It’s easy, it will just take a few minutes, and it is a beautiful poem!
go do it now!
and help a talented young poet (and quality person) get a shot of publication :)
our hands found the end of a day
and stayed,
in subtle movements
(in whispers)
of light
and air
tangled in curtains
finding the hushed transparency
of skin,
and we stayed there.
how can it be so easy for
you to put me in a corner
and cover me with cobwebs?
i’m glass
bottles
lost
to the Atlantic;
desperate
words
and salt water.
plant me in your mind,
i want to take root and drink
deeply from your thoughts.
(here)
on the surface
of a storm,
the most honest touch
i have ever known;
(you)
feeling the thunder, and
the skin
above
(my heart).
he liked to kiss her forehead,
little reminders
that her thoughts were beautiful.
sometimes silence is the loudest.
