Author: poetryfest

I don’t know if I’m still in love
It doesn’t feel the way it used to,
Like fire bright and wild within,
Now the embers fade to blue.

I search for warmth, but all is still,
As if we’re shadows in the light.
We touch, but it’s like touching glass
The surface clear, and cold to the touch

I don’t know if I’m still in love,
For time has softened every spark.
The way we used to burn so bright,
Now feels like walking in the dark.

Your voice, once thunder in my chest,
Is now the whisper of the rain.
I don’t know if I’m still in love
Or just afraid it’ll never feel the same again

I linger on the edge of us,
Now I breath in memories that feel so wrong,
as they weave and fade leaving me raw
Each glance a question, unanswered still,
A haunting echo of what was once bliss

I don’t know if I’m still in love
With every heartbeat, doubt intertwines,
As time slips through like the tears down my face

You’re going to the motherless,
Sleeping bags spread across a one-bedroom apartment,
Razor blades and prescription bottles,
Sticking two fingers down the high-school bathroom throat.

You’re mature for your age and Age doesn’t matter,
Swallowing stacks of pennies just for laughs,
I’m from PlayStations in pawn shops,
and lit cigarettes with car windows closed

Please, don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface,
I wanna be in the sequel.
–Tatum Riley, Scream

I should’ve known I was dead meat the moment I let you fuck me. Everyone knows sluts spill their guts on sin-soaked sheets. Moonlit and lovesick, I let your calloused hands creep under my ivory nightgown’s lace trim, mouth ravaging my perfectly pink lips, leaving them swollen red. Each moan is a death sentence, each breath risks being the last. I imagine the camera cuts

right as you unhook my white satin bra, straps falling from shoulders like angel wings. A single pearl dangles from a gold chain gracing my neck like a halo as I fall into pillows. Wailing wind billows through bonedust curtains, convinces me the killer lurks outside between oak trees. It doesn’t warn me about the knife you’re holding behind your back as you thrust in-and-out, stabbing

through my purity. I only notice it’s my final scene when black swallows your iris, when your head tilts and your lips curl, when you tell me I haven’t been a very good girl. They’ll find me surrounded by carmine blossoms blooming from seeds you planted in my uterus. They’ll twist my story into a cautionary tale about what happens when the girl-next-door decides to be a whore.

We always say
We love peace just
Before the war begins.

We always say
We will never leave
Just as we put our coats on.

And we always say
There are always reasons,
Perfect explanations

And we are always right,
No matter how wrong we are –
Always, always.

i.

the mind is not the brain.
the mind is
mysterious
foreign
ambiguous.
the mind is not confined to the skull.
it defies
possibility
expectation
reality.

ii.

when i close my eyes
i see sparks of color
dancing the tango.
they are
azure
chartreuse
emerald.
their psychedelic dance slows
to a waltz.
they become
familiar
warm
sensual.

iii.

this is what i see
when i close my eyes.
her hands around his neck
his hands around her hips
her waiting by the window
for him to come home
her dripping mascara staining
his shirt charcoal
her body fully relaxed
against his embrace.

iv.

the mind is not the brain.
folded tissues can’t be
daggers
guns
arrows.

v.

this is what i see
when i open my eyes.
crumbs of wheat toast
tumbling into a mug of hot tea
faded sunlight peering
through an old window
a dog at my feet and
a blank wall to my face.

vi.

the mind is
thief
trickster
villain.
vii.
the mind is alive.
it says
you
will
never
be
her.

Queerness dances like leaves in the breeze,
Unruly and vibrant, it bends with ease.

It rises like mountains, steadfast and strong,
A chorus of voices, a beautiful song.

Queerness shines like stars in the night,
A constellation of dreams, bold and bright.

It whispers like petals on warm summer days,
Embracing each color in nature’s embrace.

Queerness thrives like trees in a grove,
Rooted together, a tapestry of love.

Each branch a story, each leaf a place,
In nature’s embrace, we find our grace.

There was moment in that late afternoon
She was with her dog which she brought at home
Her natural scent was sweet and fruity
I was drunk and room was dark and empty
I just heard her voice asking to kiss me
Couldn’t tell what exactly the words would be
I was murmuring ‘til I reached her lips
As my fingertips begin to tingle
She explores underneath and bit my lips
Which it was obviously taste like ice blast
Every details about her are the words
Why I write about everything to bottom
Every moment I lit a cigarette
That late afternoon it commemorates

This is what you know :
–your mother does not understand you on any level. That she still thinks your favorite color is Hello Kitty, and that you want to become a wizard.
she wouldn’t understand this new fire in your heart–this burning flame in your heart that sings a lullaby in your heart. Sings with a song you cannot describe.
You know she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t say, “I’m happy for you” as the movies do, or anything good.
You think if you were to die tomorrow, in a turn of bad fate & twisted events in the movie of your life meant to make critics rave. Your mother would rate the film a 2/10, “incomprehensible.”
You know this on a level of understanding, your mother has never had with you.
If she’s been given a script & has already been spoiled, she’s still surprised when the big reveal occurs, the big reveal that leaves her shell shocked.
Like you’ve just told her you’re dying of some horrible thing.
Like you’ve just revealed she isn’t actually strong or good or powerful to the viewer.
Like she’s just raised a liar, a fool, and a coward for a child.
You know this because– her lungs are wrapped in ribbons in the reveal and she has no words for you and her face is marked by her disappointment and her horror and her cruel words.
She sits in the passenger seat of your car and the thunder roars around you. It is dangerous to sit in a car in a storm. It is dangerous to sit in a car with a waiting bear.
She sits in the passenger seat of your car and the tension builds until it snaps like the thread of her ribbons.
When you drop her off, she says nothing. What do you say to a bad ending after all?
You know your mama will be disappointed. It’s all you know after all.

In shadows deep, where whispered sorrows sigh,
A boy, alone, speaks truths they never see.
Condemned by laws not written by the sky,
But penned by those who claim divinity.

They call him evil, cast their stones of blame,
As if their hands are clean, their hearts are pure.
Their holy words ignite his silent flame,
A wound that festers, aching without cure.

Each night, he kneels, his prayers a bitter plea,
“God, take me home; this world was not my place.”
He questions why, beneath the endless sea
Of stars, his heart must bear such harsh disgrace.

No friends to hold, no arms to break his fall,
For fear they’d flee if ever truth was known.
He builds his walls, a fortress cold and small,
A kingdom ruled by shadows, all alone.

Their words, like chains, wrap tight around his soul,
Each slur a dagger, carving deep and wide.
The pain, a silent thief, exacts its toll,
A storm within he’s forced to ever hide.

The weight of hate, a burden he must bear,
Yet still he stands, though battered by the storm.
His spirit fights, though fragile, worn, and rare,
A spark of hope within a heart forlorn.

What crime is love? What sin in being true?
He wonders as the stars begin to fade.
Why must he pay for sins he never knew,
While others bask in light he’s been betrayed?

Yet still, he dreams of days when love is free,
When hearts are judged by kindness, not by fear.
A world where all can simply be,
And every soul is held and cherished dear.

In silence now, he whispers to the night,
“I am enough, though battered and alone.”
A quiet vow, a spark that burns so bright,
A truth within, a love he’s always known.

This pain he bears, no one will ever see,
But still he stands, and still he dares to be.

I didn’t know I had feelings until we first talked.
knowing nothing of one another except
the info and first impression photos of our profiles.
Until we talked about childhood and vulnerable memories
of current and past loved ones.
Until we discovered the parallels of pain and
struggles we shared from previous so called lovers.
It was as if fated from the universe itself
and aligned within the star’s.

I didn’t know I had feelings until you first shared a dream.
A 8 p.m. dream of finding the one kind of person thats
linked and tied at the end of your string.
The kind to experience and make memories with–kind of person.
To do every big and little thing together–kind of person,
To love, care, and cherish each other–kind of person;
To have that happily ever after forever–kind of person.
And I knew without a doubt,
I wanted to be that kind of person for you.

I didn’t know I had feelings until I started visioning.
Wondering of the sound of light whispers and loud laughters
alongside playful fighting,
With tender reassurance and supportive sympathy.
The smell of fluorescent perfume and spicy cologne
upon thin clothing,
The smell of fresh sheets and home cooked meals.
The feeling of soft touches and gentle kisses
across bare skin,
Warm hugs and comforting brushes through the hair.
The taste of nervous and wet first kisses,
With a lingering thirst;
A craving for more.

I hide within myself to conceal the joy within a smile,
My heart pounds with a sudden ecstasy to those distorted reveries.
And I didn’t know I had feelings until I found myself
engulfed in it.