young

They were young
to the world.
Only she would compose
her vivid dreams.
Soon, he was like
her silhouette:
black,
suffering,
surreal.

Who questions
the blue, night voice,
brilliant
in my sky?
Listen, perhaps you
think I bring
secret poetry,
but I blush
and walk away.

when peaches
are ripe
and white
and full of light,
that is the moon
we are underneath
tonight.

moon

TALL,
proud moon:
rising about three inches
(from my perspective of
the ground).
Now I know
what Langston Hughes
saw that night in Harlem,
as he sat
listening to the world screaming.
This isn't a sliver of goodness,
but a giant,
ripe peach
floating in the night sky.

motivation

On every wall,
in every bathroom,
in every school,
there hangs numerous
inspirational,
reflective,
soothing,
pictures, quotes, poems.
I believe that their purpose
is to
inspire,
cause introspective thought, and
calm
teachers everywhere.
Instead,
they numb those
who are looking for escape,
and tease those
who need to escape.

Far away landscapes,
deep forests,
colorful sunsets,
only create a longing
desire
to leave your present life
in order to discover
other beauties.

Look within.

believe what one chooses:

you're ne'er too rich
in devotion,
amor,
soft breath,
desire,
and perhaps,

emotion.

you understand
a woman
when the question is:

how?

translucent

You were translucent,
yet once the
magic embraced
my universe,
this smoke
here
lingered.

You must listen,
perhaps
for an eternity.

And some accrue
lonely shadows
to make beauty
seem now.

But I pass through,
and I know
I can
belong.