Trigger

Thunder's a trigger

that unlocks the decades,

time's not a harbinger,

change is a shape shifter

that strikes in an instant

turning something to ruins

but I am resistant. 

No,

I don't wither

waiting for no one at all

it hasn't failed my burdened heart yet

but can't deny that I still fall.

Under the Thunder

Sunlight struck me

in the middle of the night

it woke me in a fury,

unaware and prepared to fight.

Like a vision leaving my mind,

dreams drifting on lightning road

leave me amongst the adrenaline 

as my heart reveals tales untold.

I carry on under pure silver armor

now unafraid of a taste of hell.

Artifacts of a love extinguished

and scripture no one lives to tell.

Your reflection in my constellation,

across broken glass and icy sea,

you don’t know me anymore

but under the thunder you belong to me. 

The spirit is willing...

Halo on the Lake

Time should have warned us
of our ultimate shipwreck.
Dammit, I can still feel
your superficial hand upon me.
I have never seen your eyes
but I can feel the shine in my bedroom
You know we were cheated
and our love unrequited.

I graciously let go
to lies guised as love songs.
Looking back now,
I don’t know if it was worth it.
But I don’t know if it wasn’t,
I don’t know answers,
just questions by the dozen,
time’s turned me into
something able of feeling nothing.

Time should have warned us,
of affairs of the heart
lovers become strange
as seasons change
and faces flicker in the dark,
nothing ever stays the same.

There’s a halo on the lake tonight,
and music from open windows
vibrate the fine strings of my thoughts
as I search my pockets for a light.
I’ll be a lingering interval,
a moment reflected in moonshine.
We make the most of what we take,
and the things we learn to leave behind.

Capers

Talons sharpened and drawn I wait,

in the smoldering 

but still living remains.

There’s unnoticed ashes

drifting undetected into your vodka.

I never thought you an angel

but God knows how I wanted to.

We see what we chose

and shut our eyes tight

as we willing free fall

into the clutches of lost causes.

Night again is my sentinel;

she arranges tokens and offerings

inside etherial music

echoing from this poets ink and scars.