Category: Poems

The shelves were heavy with silence.Ink longed for eyes, paper craved fingers.She ran her hands over the spines,whispered to them in the dark,promised them one daysomeone would listen.

First, the roots tickled his lungs.Then the branches cracked his ribs.By spring, birds nested in his collarbones,foxes curled up in the hollows of his hips.By summer, he forgot how to speak,but the wind understood him.

Static whispers in the voice of the dead.Old love songs play themselves backwards.Turn the dial too far, and you’ll hear it—a long sigh,a name you almost recognize.

A man sends his childhood back to himself.A woman mails a love letter to a version of herthat still believes.The packages stack up, unopened.Somewhere, in a quiet room,someone carefully sortshope from regret.

In the airport of lost conversations,someone wheels a suitcase, overstuffed.It drips with last words unsaid,with half-hugged farewells,with “I’ll call you” lies and teary almosts.Security scans it, finds nothing but echoes.They let it through.

His empire crumbled beneath tiny paws.A single swat knocked the crown from his head.Revolution came at feeding time,the army betrayed him for a better brand of kibble.No statues remain,only claw-marked curtainsand a velvet throne covered in fur.

Slow-blooded dreamer,tracing slime trails in the shape of longing.She streaks across the sky, fire in her tail,while he watches, patient,knowing love is measurednot in speed, but in return paths.

Folded it neatly into his coat pocket,smuggled it past the jealous clouds.At home, he hung it over his fireplace,lit the room with tangerine glow.People whispered, the sky felt empty,but no one ever caught him—a thief of light, a smuggler of endings.

Do not enter the third stanza—it creaks under the weight of forgotten metaphors.Beware the attic of lost rhymes.Something moves beneath the punctuation.A misplaced comma whispers your name.The poem wants you to leave,but the final line is locked.

The moon says, “I am cool.”The sun replies, “I am necessary.”The moon scoffs, “And yet, I control the tides.”The sun sneers, “And yet, they wait for me to return.”The stars hold their breath.The planets roll their eyes.The Earth spins away,choosing not to pick a side.