CemeterySound Poetry

[o'queery]

It's morning again sweet self,

Sitting at the
crest of this beach full of heartbeats
I wonder what ever became of love..

The space between
those
tender moments
of
frustration and glee

Where I dropped my tomb linens

and


sang to You by
the fire of
my verbs

I saw it all

Like the tattoos
on my
forearms speak
volumes
in pictures
of depth to fragile for most


But not
You

I give love
like the wave that crashes
it's body to
the sand

And for once

I would like to be loved like that too

Always reaching into
empty oceans


but still finding shells/
dollars made of sand-
orange stars of acceptance for who I am

It's liquid my poems...

A beacon of hope in wasted times where
love doesn't come first
or


last to some

I eat the air
A delicious consumpiton
of strength
to empower me

and


Eyes wide as the escaping Moon,
hungry as ever I smile

Good morning boy