Finally am starting to get more of this writing stuff in a form that I like, and that people can relate to. I've also been writing most everyday, which feels good.
Tonight's effort:
Crevasses
cluttered as the dresser is
her dried roses stand out in the gloom of
dim midnight that filters past the door
Valentine’s day was a while back, collecting dust while they
become brittle and crack
he’ll notice the bond between become similar
to old yellow wood glue
reminded of musty closets of outdated newspapers
information that once meant something,
same way the roses did, same amber piss stained glow
but is old news now, jaundiced and varicose with age
water vapor hangs in the air to taunt at gravity
a concentration gradient pulled it from the roses,
from their skin,
from the sweat while they explored meaning between bedsheets
sucked their bond hard and inflexible, dry like
lips near so much salt water
roses are lumber now, hardened as hearts do
set into set and stanzaic forms
and their bond is shivered with cracks of the ice floes
love is like a red, bled, rose
parched and wanting fulfillment of novelty
splash of exhilaration
that river stopped running before Valentine’s day
even if the water returns
roses swell, and vases crack