Memory Metaphor Poems

I see no sign of forced entry...
just copper suns and cornflower blue,
have you been here all this time?
I don't remember inviting you,
and now all my...

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                   ...

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Do I remember when...

Better breezes blew
Cleaner waters flowed
Teasing memory so... 

For I can hear them in quiet special times… can you?
Softly now, in your own...

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"The beauty you see in me 
--is a reflection of you" :-)

I want you to cut out
a paper heart, of any hue

Doesn't matter if you're...

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Changed my mind
and most probably
my spelling and words
quite a lot recently,

thinking we all live
in a simulation and
are bodies are
avatars or emojis,

was watching
high end particle
of love...

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Just like this vessel, we all bear
Marks of struggle, signs of wear.
But beneath the surface, deep within
Lies the essence of who we have been.

Like a...

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It simmers. This constant invisible, hovering 
like a wasp in the forever periphery threatening 
lightning strike yellows, sudden and unbidden. It spills
and spools, down into...

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I hear them talking as I open my eyes, 
a hazy something lingers on my lips like lava, 
threatening to erupt. I hear question then...

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Time passes, conversation and music ends,
light refracts, shimmers in water, bends.
Nails grow, hair lengthens, heads turn and bones break,
stems wilt, gardens overgrow, clouds regurgitate water...

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Must morning return so soon?
her hand-me-down haste,
& moth-eaten bloom,
grieves for the rain,
of last night's pour,
but, I still taste,
the petrichor,
dancing,
on my tongue.
...

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Tight stretched skin, not unlike leather parchment
Adorned with scars and burns and such carvings
Among the colors, red ink's enrichment
Envelops a file cabinet's burnings

Advice from the...

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Have I not yet awoke,
since last I wandered bare, 
in fields of bergamot and smoke,
and spring morning’s air,
blows a little more brilliant,
holding her prayer,
in my...

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I am Time,
I do not know
Where I’ve come from
Nor do I know whither I am going
I only know that I started in the past
And am...

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Under childish thumb
   picking dandelion teeth
stained in ochre crumb....

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- in those moments, it shines.
The nostalgia of an upside down
world glinting up through hourglasses of years,
a mark impressed upon flesh; a scar harbouring
simple childhood...

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