Delete Account? Yes/No (poem)

I see deleted accounts in my messages
of poets who once filled my feed
with a constant churning of content
in a modern day hustle for glory
or maybe just an ambitious attempt to be heard.

Regardless, they are gone now
with every word rendered unspoken:
both poem and poet enveloped by distance
when once you could reach out and feel them.
Now, only absence remains.

I hope they have found new meaning,
a purpose which does not drive them to madness
chasing numbers in exchange for their fractured heart,
a life in which a mirror is all the recognition they need –
peace from the endless noise of the internet.

-Zero

falling for you one last time (poem)

When the time is right,
meet me in the autumn-stained woods
where a rushing stream cuts through the hills
and the rocky slope below is obscured by leaves.
We will sit and talk until the mood is right,
when the warm glow of sunset ignites the forest
and sensible people escape its grasp
before darkness awakes and ensnares all.

Then we will stand and share a kiss:
one hand resting lightly on your waist
as you gently press yours against my chest,
our final kiss just like the first.
Then I will pull away as you push,
falling and crashing upon every rock below
and add my own crimson leaves to the display
until the stream finally entombs me.

-Zero

no one heard them scream, now they whisper (poem)

The house stood broken and decayed,
illuminated by paltry rays of moonlight
that seemed afraid to enter the dark windows
with old boards dangling from rusty nails
left behind from the days before it was forgotten

The cold October air cut through it
and had already ripped every leaf off of every tree
leaving nothing but spindly fingers in the sky above
all reaching out towards the moon for salvation –
they would crack and fall before it would arrive.

On nights like that, whispers can be heard
through the creaking and groaning of the house
while the forest lay still with knowing unease
no words can ever be made out
yet they tell a story of tragedy – and murder.

In the red-stained darkness of the house
their belongings were left to rot and decay:
a stuffed bear now a centipede nest
the kitchen a chittering cockroach haven
the noose collapsed under the rafters.

-Zero

Fortune's Tapestry (poem)

Out at a pub with you
I feel my blessed luck in every moment,
the threads of chance converging once more.
I know it's too early for certainty,
but I stole a glimpse at the tapestry formed:
it wrapped itself up around my heart –
recently reformed and reforged in sacred flame
with every careless madness scorched away
and all my doubts withered under a blazing sun.

What luck it was not to have met earlier,
to have our paths meet too early to intertwine
the tapestry would fray at every seam
becoming unwound with every step forward
though the ground collapsed beneath our feet
and forced us to forge ahead to survive.

Now here under the light of a half moon
we sit and share in each other's presence
every thread of chance interlaced with fortune –
I propose a toast in our luck's honor,
to the tapestry we are sure to weave.

 -Zero

The White Picket Fence (poem)

she suggested we muse on a romantic dream
of a house and kids – white picket fence and all,
my soft heart has long yearned for that ideal love
but I hate white picket fences and dull lawns.
I am a skid mark on the street in that dream
a shadow in the night they're too afraid to face.
that fantasy never truly belonged to me,
implanted into my mind by careless fictions,
sweet lies that sought to sell us a lifestyle:
a box to live in for marketed bliss.

I could not bring myself to answer her
let those who yet sleep continue to dream. 

-Zero

A Wall of Questions (poem)

my heart awakened after years of hollow stasis,
it pulls me towards a solid brick wall
across its surface a thousand questions are scrawled
and I don't know if I have an answer to any of them
or a way to scale the wall and see what lies beyond
a fabled wonderland of tenderness and understanding

after all those years of a practical “love”
does my heart now yearn for the impractical?
A love which offers itself up as a puzzle -
one you find yourself desperate to solve
to change and compromise and commit
and find the pieces that always seemed to fit.

Because my heart desires to swell again
to remember the way loves makes you
the way it fills and ignites you
and makes every wall a stepping stone
to one of the beauties that make life radiant
despite all the questions left unanswered.

 -Zero

a question I have to ask (poem)

I stare at her photo,
desperate for a reason to reject possibility.
Enticed by her simple beauty,
my mind swirls with a thousand fantasies.
But there is a familiarity to it – to her –
an echo of someone I once knew and loved,
a face I had never wanted to forget.
I contemplate my response, my desire:
do I truly want fulfillment,
or do I simply want something familiar?

-Zero

the soul's groove (poem)

meet me in the warm light of a café
bring the whole band with you
we aren't going to bother with monotonous talk
taking turns with the mic, we'll sing
filling the space with our melodic hearts
let's share what causes our souls to groove
the passions that inspire life to dance
share your joys with me, I'll learn the steps
starting with a different tempo, we'll find a rhythm
that we can move in time with together
and when the song comes to an end
when the night has crept over the city
streetlights turned into static fireflies
we'll find ourselves with a new song to sing.

-Zero

culling the seeds of romance (poem)

I try to love plants even when they're not flowering,
to accept them for their leaves and stems –
for what they are, not what they could be.

but what could be still lingers on my mind
with every beautiful stranger and poetic moment
“what if this could be the start of something new?”

if those thoughts were a plant, I'd let them wither
I'd cut off all of their flowers before they bloom
leave them to dry up under an unforgiving sun.

Why must there be whispers of more?
dreams of seeds taking root in desolate soil
that damned push to plant a garden of love.

I know they see these thoughts in my mind
vines creeping out from my ears, covering my eyes
so long as they remain, sincerity is a question.

I want the answer to be careless acceptance
not a meticulously curated garden
but a forest: wild and beautiful and forever free.

-Zero

to crash on the rocks (poem)

I do not fear the rocks
this ship's hull is full of holes and I sail on
out towards the roughest seas and tempests
so the crashing waves may escort me to the depths
beyond the touch of the light.

There, I will descend into dark familiarity,
that wretched place I had learned to call home
in a life now dead and half-forgotten.
I go in search of something I left behind,
a part of myself whose cries echo through the deep.

Down there, where the whispers are deafening,
I will retrieve a heart broken and crushed
which once desperately chased the lights of the deep
directly into the jaws of unseen horrors.
This time – we will ascend instead.

Reunited and whole for the first time,
I will climb back out of those whispering depths,
their allure now faded and weak to my ears.
I will crash through the waves and greet the sky,
drag the current back to the shore.

Then, you will see that I have changed.
reforged by sky, sea, and flame,
I do not fear the rocks, the abyss, goodbye.
Let this ship full of holes sink out of sight;
I will welcome another horizon.

-Zero

eyes like black holes (poem)

I yearn to succumb to the pull
to gaze into your eyes and see that look
the one that threatens to crush my heart

overwhelmed by self-preservation, I look away
to linger is to be sucked into your depths
into a vast unknowable abyss lined with desire.
I heed my fears, yet still I wonder:
what cosmic truths would the taste of your lips whisper
could I hold onto myself with your arms around me
or would I slip into the embrace of madness
and witness this fear as fanciful lies
built on the proclamations of those too afraid to look?

And yet, despite it all,
I let myself succumb to the pull
to learn all of your cosmic beauties.

-Zero

do butterflies know fear (poem)

I learned to damn my heart's flutters
to suspect crushes as demons in joy's clothing
a sweet taste of self-destruction
every spark a house fire with me trapped inside
screaming screams only I could hear
but maybe it doesn't have to be that way

maybe the flutter of my heart could be a butterfly
prancing through the air with what short eternity it's given
with no disguises, no masks, no pretense of more
cast away on the wind, let me drift on the wind
every spark another updraft to carry me away
into joys that I was too afraid to know.

-Zero

Death to Glory! (poem)

 For years I was lost to doubt.
having stumbled out into the internet,
I witnessed a thousand writers screaming out into the void
not willing to hear, only to be heard
and I was there too, floating among them
wondering if there was value to adding my voice to the cacophony
to continue a constant desperation for attention
is that all the pen was truly good for?
is that all I was good for?

Though I gave those doubts a voice,
they have gone unanswered
even as I stand before you now reading this poem
in this warm café off the beaten path
where poets congregate to share and listen
from sharp seasoned pens to teenage girls
who make my early years all the more embarrassing.

Here, I found the truth that lies beyond doubt
a roaring flame that such darkness could never know
we unweave ourselves up on the stage to find each other:
the pen is not a sword on the field of glory
it is a cup of tea between friends
it is singing by the campfire on a cool night
it is love's embrace when grief takes you
it is knowing you are not alone
and telling others they never will be.

And so those doubts are not worth the ink
when there is passion to be felt,
beauty to see, joys to share,
this vibrant exuberance we've created together.
I want to keep hearing your voices
and thank you for hearing mine.

-Zero

The Tunnel - Kira Faye (poem)

 We had crawled into it in search of adventure
two teenagers with fingers interlaced
as we walked into darkness
the water ran in the opposite direction
but was trapped in the air,
its dampness a warning
We barely fit in the tunnel – the drainage pipe
our backs scrapping against the top as we walked
she led the way though gripped by fear
something I felt in my fingers, trapped by hers
something stirred and she screamed,
dashing back into me.
All went still for a moment
I reassured her and she pressed on

the smell was the first thing I noticed
the sign that we had found what we had feared
the sign to turn back immediately and never return
but neither of us recognized it
so we continued on
drawing ever closer to the source
with nothing but a flashlight to illuminate the horror
the faces staring back at us,
half submerged in the water
eyes bleeding out a radioactive ooze
the whole scene a horrid rainbow strung through darkness

we turned and we ran
blood stained our shirts,
seemed to come down from the tunnel itself
the light at the end promised freedom
but we would never be free again
those eyes would always watch us
and us them
their draped rainbow burned into our eyes
until we join them in the tunnel forever.

-Zero

should I feel more? (poem)

Butterflies swallowed by molten lava
desire boiling up at every touch
even after all these years spent together,
is that how I'm supposed to feel?

Instead desire simmers somewhere out of sight
butterflies lay dead on the ground like fallen leaves,
crumbling as I wander through in fearful pacing:
I don't know what I should feel
has age dimmed and tamed my once-wild emotions
allowing for a proper relationship to finally flourish
or has my romantic heart quietly stopped beating
(or just doesn't have a place for you in it)?

If this were to implode,
sucked into the void where love once lived,
would desire reignite and draw me back
or would the butterflies revive and fly away
to a place where flowers may yet bloom?

-Zero

and i thought of you (poem)

last night i walked alone through the purple night
my heart stirred from a long slumber –
sleep would not have me so easily –
not while the days before sang their song
a melody that would teach my heart how to swell again
my feet never forgot the dance that accompanied
the bounce in the step and the spin
from the days when forever after was a coffee date
and i would wish on every shooting star

as the music rose to a peak
and joy conducted me to sing,
a streak of light flashed across the sky
a gift from the gods, or perhaps a test,
and as its fire burned out far beyond my reach
i would let no words escape from my mouth
nor thoughts come together to form a phrase,
i smiled and wished all the same.

 -Zero

swing dancing with a constellation (poem)

glitter under her eyes and stars spread across her legs
since the big bang I've waited to see her sparkle
here, in the dim light of a church basement filled with jazz,
to take her hand and see how music transports galaxies
into moments where dance overtakes gravity.
her skirt flies up as she spins–
I pull her back in–
our celestial bodies collide, imbued with the night's heat
her every movement is flow and freedom,
yearning for an invitation to shine with brilliant radiance
and I can only hope to borrow her boundlessness
to embody the beautiful rhythm of the universe
and dance with her again.

-Zero

An Invitation to Arson (poem)

Press your lips against mine
one touch to ignite a wildfire.
Fueled by the sparks of poetry,
our bodies will form the kindling:
“we” as interlaced/intertwined flames
“us” as embers adrift on the wind
our love: smoke billowing over the horizon
an echo of a scorching radiance –
the glow of a star burning into existence.

 -Zero

mr. mundane (poem)

inspired by justfrankie's "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS"

         that ring
                                won't fill the hole in your heart,
the home that Love had abandoned years ago

        and you
                                tried to fill it with desperate fantasies
the whispers of sweet nothings that Love once loved -
now you're a doll on display, pull the string to say the line

        and her,
                                dressed in pearl marching down the aisle
beauty as radiant as gems and makeup could allow
with boundless joy overwhelming her every move

        and you,
                                only reminded of this gnawing void
too late now, put on a mask for the show
play the part as if the lines were your own
crocodile tears turn real as the horror sets in
the truth would shatter her porcelain heart
turn her fulfilled dream to nightmare

        and you,
                                haven't the heart to do it.

-Zero

reminders of lilies (poem)

spring still somehow reminds me of you
sharp gaze, long dark hair, and sarcastic wit
wrapped up in horror movies and romcoms
a soft porcelain serenade on the breeze
with blossoms of new beginnings
of lilies blooming – and withering
demons we couldn't deny creeping forward
while we kissed with passion and flame
hurrying them to their destination – our end

every year since I plant lilies in the back
fall in love with the beauty that blooms
and say goodbye when their (our) time is up.

 -Zero

she who wears the moon (poem)

her earrings were full moons on a short chain
shining and sparkling with a mysterious platinum light
that playfully pranced through the yearning dark of the bar

crystallized raindrops dangled from her twin moons
keepsakes from a time love came pouring down
transformed into glittering stars in a pale night sky

and she, illuminated by a light she pretended wasn't her own,
embodied the gentle power of the tide with every sway
becoming the waves that overflow onto a patient shore.

-Zero

death on a whim (poem)

the man you knew is tied up and gagged
in a forgotten corner deep in the cement basement
of an abandoned home rigged with explosives.
so long as his heart beats, it is yours to break
but this reflection of mine is almost out of time
the silence is filled with the ticking of a clock
if you act now, you may save him, or doom him,
whichever fate you wish for your toy,
but you must choose, and quick,
before his splattered corpse paints the rubble.

 -Zero