Today my lips are chapped from all of the kisses I have given away, and I can already feel my heart breaking again tomorrow. I have set my soul to repeat every yesterday when the vision I held of myself was still as clear and half as clean as the hope I watched you bury … Continue reading My Heart Breaking Tomorrow
Perception is a tricky thing. Sometimes what she believes to be real is nothing more than the sound lonely wishes make when she has wrapped them in defeat and set them loose into a thirsty world. And in those moments, when I am picking her up off the floor again, I wipe her eyes and … Continue reading The Curve of Her Wish
Have I offended you enough? Is today the day when you will type your pedantic verses on the not quite organic paper you were lucky enough to find, buried under last year’s lonely hearts Valentine card stock in a flash Friday two for one sale at Chrissy’s Cuts and dollar bargain free-for-all? Have I offended … Continue reading Have I Offended You?
From time to time, the sun will set hot on my memories and leave the cooling to a breeze that swings by my house and kicks my front door down just to tickle my lips and call us square, but I bite my lip when I stand in line, self serving at a checkout, juggling … Continue reading Gutting The Apartment Upstairs
We wear poems on our skin; those words were carved into our bones when we were born into a world sadly lacking good poetry, and far too filled with shame to ever let us dance naked, and swing our stories from our hips. © Nicole Lyons 2018
There is thing in my throat, I cough and I hack, and I clear my schedule for every dead-beat dad and long lost survivor of something that is offensive right now, but it still catches; it still wiggles its way into the muck, and it sticks here, right fucking here, between the roof of my … Continue reading Second Supper
I believe there is a window, mounted in mourning, hung just this side of midnight. And when we call out, through its shattered glass and torn screens, something in the universe shifts, allowing our echoes and our unfortunate words to ride the wind, and carry our secrets into the open windows of the insomniacs of … Continue reading This Side of Midnight