She might not be as good as she thought.
are tears red or blue?
you no longer knows but you
called me by my name.
By My Name Is Not Cypressabout a month ago in Poets
wings flap in the flame
the moth winced, so did you.
was it worth it, love?
By My Name Is Not Cypress2 months ago in Poets
shaking its head to my tears
six feet above you
I kept jars of air
you breathed, hoping they'd last me
the rest of my life.
like a crashing plane
my keel, fin, my blood and bones
all landed on you
I point at the sea
my new favorite - the blue
all because of you
You’re trapped in your nightmare
You get away.
You run to the keyboard,
pouring out your fear
By My Name Is Not Cypress3 months ago in Poets
Humans invented mirrors.
Before that. There’s water.
Blurry silhouettes were all we had of what we look like.
By My Name Is Not Cypress6 months ago in Poets
The birds on our roof are extra loud today.
I hope that's the sound of cheer, not dismay.
Are they looking forward to May?
By My Name Is Not Cypress8 months ago in Poets
I rarely do but that day,
when I had a second to breathe
I looked up at the sky
A squirrel scurried across the wire
Against the blue, on top of the black, a tiny blob of moving gray
Knife in one hand. Blood on another.
The puddle of red paint reflects my own eyes.
Shaped like the waning moon. Something that made you swoon.