Tag Archives: poets
The need to write poetry is a tickle down my throat I must cough up even if I don’t want to. Advertisements
“The bed is an operating table where my dreams slice me to pieces” – Anne Sexton Below is Rebecca Fionna photographed by Carly Zeng.
My bottled up feelings for you ran out of ink.
I trace my fingertips over his chest learning how his heartbeats like a blind girl learns braille.
My love fills books that he will never read.
Naked legs in the dark rose petal bath my delicate hand holds a wine glass full of wishes, ifs, and maybes. Slowly, I sip wishing men who kiss me know their every touch replays on my skin your rough robbery of my body. Maybe … Continue reading
I don’t need you to understand me I just need you to try.
I blush just thinking about the poems I could write for you.
Roses are practice for watching us beautifully decay.
Night’s feathers stroke the day darkening the shiny glints the sun kissed upon the clay drowsy rose petals sigh and lilacs play before the stars take our attention demanding that we stay.