When my candle runs out of wick/ I hope there’s still warmth in your smile/ I hope your pen understands/ My ink doesn’t always know what paper wants/ But there’s always love/ When I run out of weight/ It’s your paperweights play/ Please wait till I finish up my absence/ Hush, we are frightening the wax/ Don’t streak the armoire/ Enough silent scars/ Press a breach into our shadow/ Grip my light/ Crows in the mirror/ Kindle the clean slate/ Insatiable blank/ Clutch words for the mourning/ Pelt the dusk/ Look into distant screaming/ Revive my silent i’s/ Misspell.
This feels as if everything in the room is carrying emotion. “Please wait till I finish up my absence” is such an incredible line. “Revive my silent i’s / Misspell” ends this with such ache and humanity. Beautiful work. <3
like a love poem written from inside disappearance itself. the ending especially wrecked me…. “revive my silent i’s / misspell” is asking to be loved imperfectly rather than forgotten. the kind of writing that leaves fingerprints on silence.
“Please wait till I finish up my absence” stayed with me. The whole piece feels like language trying to hold itself together while already slipping into disappearance. Strange and quietly haunting.
Beautiful!
“My ink doesn’t always know what paper wants”
“Please wait til I finish up my absence”
thank you Lane!
This feels as if everything in the room is carrying emotion. “Please wait till I finish up my absence” is such an incredible line. “Revive my silent i’s / Misspell” ends this with such ache and humanity. Beautiful work. <3
thank you Petra!
<3
"Hush, we are frightening the wax"
Love this, Stephen!
thank you Kelly! very nice of you to be here 😁
Fine stuff, Stephen
thank you mucho Ray!
Lovely and lyrical, Stephen. I also really liked “please wait till I finish up my absence’ and the candle imagery.
thank you Nora! I truly appreciate it when you like .
You’re so welcome!
like a love poem written from inside disappearance itself. the ending especially wrecked me…. “revive my silent i’s / misspell” is asking to be loved imperfectly rather than forgotten. the kind of writing that leaves fingerprints on silence.
thank you Stacey! I always look forward to you reading.
another darker one! hint of Zesta:)
ha! thank you
“Please wait till I finish up my absence” stayed with me. The whole piece feels like language trying to hold itself together while already slipping into disappearance. Strange and quietly haunting.
thank you Antonio! I appreciate the comment.