Now and Then

We used to paint our fingernails
But now we paint on smiles
Hiding in our every wake
Down the lonely aisle

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Loving you

My heart has swelled
to the size of an ocean,
and all I can do
is blame you.

Sunscreen

And when I think of you
I think of morning doves
Singing ballads in the a.m.
Soaring high above the treetops
On the street where you live

I think of you and I see cloudy skies
Dulled and gray and dismal
Warning me that there is rain to come

I think of you and I hear the bomb tick
Slowly and then faster
As I await the explosion of time
But the sun always made the burns worth it
It’s warm rays somewhat comforting

And when I think of you
I think of sunscreen

Withered, Battered, and Abandoned

Withered men used to dig the trenches,

their tired hands rough and worn down from labour’s past,

the soot under their fingernails forming something called modern art,

their faces besmirched with dirt leftover from the mines.

 

Battered women reached out in vain,

calling out for their loved ones to cease the hurt,

the destruction,

the pain,

mending their broken fingers

and patching up their wounds

as they licked themselves clean,

washing away the blood with their own salty tears.

 

Infants used to be born to absent mothers,

their hearts and minds unavailable,

their bodies farther gone,

hidden in cheap hotel rooms and dusty, studio apartments

dressed up in old furniture taken from the curb,

their edges cracking and splitting.

 

Time used to age gracefully,

but finesse has since become foreign territory,

its traces forever erased now that the clocks have stopped,

their hands ticking no more.

Solace can no longer be found.