My tears

My tears have
left tire tracks
on my reddened
cheeks
again
       and again
             and
                    again.

Witch hunt(ed)

Should I stand here now, defiant, and cast myself upon the fires of suspicion, I may blush.

Would I smile when stern faces attempt to discover me in plain sight, remains to be seen.

Could I remain innocent when the pointing fingers turn to gropes and grabs, when I am guilty? Yes, but I may cry.

Bless be, Christian, bless be and bless me.

On the journey home

The sky is cast in the most beautiful shades of pink and blue,
cerise and navy,
night’s embrace enveloping the shrinking city most prettily.

I will rarely miss the rotten streets of the city,
but already I miss him.

I love

I love
her hair of
lavender.
Too bad
she puts me
to sleep.

To your ghost

You came to me a gentle soul, pure heart and all that, until you saw my wickedness and my cruelty, piercing you like an ice pick, stabbing the hard exterior of your hopes and turning your mass of dreams into feverish nightmares. You became a monster to my monstrous eyes, Frankenstein beholding his creation in sublime terror, escaping your haunting persecution and your frozen eyes of incomplete understanding.

I am Cathy. Watch me run.

Cold winds, colder expectations looming over my very soul, icicles clinging to my nose and my hopes. Tables turned, I dare speak to your ghost that remains a false companion through these apocalyptic nights, the horror lurking behind me and my cracking sheet of resolve.
Forgive me, forgive me.

art imitates life

the drying of paint
reminds me of me,
with acrylic emotions
and watercolour dreams.