There are spider webs in my lungs. They contract and dilate Rip and tear with each grasping attempt to respire as I choke on lies deceit and strawberry aftershave.
Author: Azzuen Berge
Untitled
They tell me I have PTSD I look up at the paint peeling on the ceiling I do not believe them.
I am
I am fire I try to burn my way home I see nothing but the trail of embers in my wake I understand I can supposedly grow and nourish things in the ashes I explore this possibility tenderly yet I am fire I feel the sorrow of things that could have never been and the…
Unfinished Napkin Poem
You first kissed me in a doorway, and if that isn’t poetic enough I don’t know what is. You opened doors I had barred shut – and I want to hold your eyes in the palm of my hand, shield them from the horrors of the world. Hold back the pain that’s bleeding in from…
Riding to Battle in a Midnight Blue Car
Violently calm, he sits in the front seat, splayed with an eerie regality around the chassis. Long tendrils of his fiery hair hang into his eyes, casting prison-bar shadows over them. Lysander is achingly beautiful like this, the fire in his belly burning up, a slow heating of ember before the inferno. For one named…