Zenka's Very Bad Poetry

I saw a creature at the river's bank
All hunched over, with fingers so long
They could cradle her caved chest
She seemed ragged( Read more... )

The wood feels empty
When I know you're not in it
When the wind brings me its worries
Of the absence of you ( Read more... )

You left me, in part
So I would not cry in my
Sleep, but I still do

I was so happy
Finally, that I did not
See you fall away

Butterflies with sky tipped wings
Like a cloud of movement and feeling
Nothing I could capture, nothing I could hold
Only sensation, ghostly, unreal( Read more... )

It is time to stop
Salting the earth with the blood
Of murdered children

I packed your things up
Because I don't know where you
Live, and the sun hurts.

I think you'll leave me
And I won't fall apart but
I won't ever be

Happy again.

I dreamed my body was a house
Of mossy stone and a clay roof
I dreamed my limbs were hallways
And my fingers were doorways ( Read more... )

You wonder why
You always feel so
Painfully
Abradingly transparent ( Read more... )

You give no promises
And I don't ask because you always tell me
Love must always be free. ( Read more... )

My Self longs
To hold the whole fruit
In both my hands
To feel the heft of it
And the Emptiness it displaces ( Read more... )

It was a shock to the senses
A door did not open
A wall fell outwards ( Read more... )

All these pretty things
I can't have
I wish I didn't have eyes to see them

All those beautiful words
And the world they built before my eyes
I would hold them tightly
If only you didn't regret them quite like this.

The changeable sky
Clouds move across his face
And pass by
Seeding the earth with rain as they go
( Read more... )

Breathe in
Find your center
Breath out
Releasing negativity

Sitting
Criss-cross applesauce
In the hatched back
Of a hatchback

Ignoring discomfort
Would be so much easier
if I fit in here

Unlovable
In the center
The skin you can touch
Is thinner than you can know
But it's all you can see
( Read more... )

The yard slopes down
Past a wooden swing seat dangling
From a cockeyed tree
At the front of the yard there's a
Place where the rains gather
And water-bugs sprout
And popsicle stick rafts may race
( Read more... )

He thinks I have pretty hands
He tells me my skin is so soft
Laying against me, trembling,
He says I am amazing
I wish I could be that woman
His eyes see

I dreamed your voice
Ghost-like
You were telling me you loved me
And that you knew I didn't love you back
That I never would
I dreamed I was the wind
Stripping away your skin
In shreds that curled from you
Like slickened banners
( Read more... )