Rebecca Schultz: https://www.facebook.com/wordschangeverything/ Instagram- @penciltopaperseries
Category: Poems
Light
On nights like this when I close my eyes I cannot tell if I see daggers or stars glinting in the only light that’s left. © Kristiana Reed 2018
Silk and Gossamer
I imagine his mind is a labyrinth spun with silk and gossamer thread. His worries and thoughts flex, bend and stretch but never split. His wishes and apologies stick in his throat; dew flecked kisses sting and his eyes singe with love only the nightingale sings of. He is lost in a maze of … Continue reading Silk and Gossamer
Dancing with Monsters – Nicholas Gagnier & Kristiana Reed
Wish I didn't dwell where the wild things are, wasn't spellbound by their coats of matted hair and the cowardice they dispel. You say I shouldn't wallow, but I haven't been well. Dog that broke its legs chasing rabbits and cars, fell in a hole the world left ajar. Wish I was … Continue reading Dancing with Monsters – Nicholas Gagnier & Kristiana Reed
Empty Halls
You left me a haunted house; all my windows and doors open, every curtain and bedsheet blowing in the wind. And in that moment I felt most alive knowing my empty halls screamed of me and not of you. © Kristiana Reed 2018 This was written in response to Free Verse Revolution's weekly prompt … Continue reading Empty Halls
Last Night
Last night I heard a voice which I can no longer place - in memories nor in second chances. I'm hoping this means, I've finally forgotten your face.
A Candle of Maybe
I held my hair like a rosary and pleaded with my nightmares to be kind to me; to burn a candle of maybe whilst showing me every way a loved one could die; to keep vigil over hope whilst teaching me the way bones shatter after falling; to cradle me in cotton memories whilst reminding … Continue reading A Candle of Maybe
The Woman He Sees
She clothes him in my nudity shrouds him in my tumbling hair and her touch burns pink like candle lit kisses. She breathes in cinnamon she’s fiery and warm, her cold thawing passion washing his unholy hands and feet with my presence. She worships the moon and the sun and the stars when … Continue reading The Woman He Sees
Ghost Boy
It has been years since we met, decades since we last touched each other's lives with a smile. Time has been cruel, convincing me you were never there at all. A figment of a twelve year old imagination; lonely amongst the bookshelves and films, fixated on wheat fields and sunsets. You were beautiful … Continue reading Ghost Boy
Hanging Moon
Sometimes I wonder which would be better: death or insomnia? Because I cannot withstand the in-between. Cold nights tumbling in and out of dreams. Dreams of dying, dreams of living, dreams of running toward a hanging moon; taking the rope from around its pale withering neck and binding my wrists to the ground. … Continue reading Hanging Moon
