I observe, so I can dream.

•sideblog•all original unless tagged•do not use or copy•

[jb-cohen]

still alive

just experiencing a drought. Never thought the poems would leave me

Though they may return. They usually do

[distilledmelancholies]

It’s cold

It's cold, you are with me,

or so the air tells me

as it carries your fragrance;

or so your words claim,

those few that you gift me

in between all this distance.

You are here while you are silent,

while I love you,

while I observe from afar, with a breath of hope;

but it is cold: my words freeze,

and although you are not that far away

I feel cold deep within my soul.

It's cold,

but I continue

to love you

throughout the days,

and the hells of my nights

and the loneliness of the wee hours;

with what is left of my heart,

with what remains of my reasoning,

with what I have left over of foolishness...

[And I will continue like this,

because I can't find

nor can I neither accept nor conceive

some other shelter

other than your arms.]

[leonardospoetry]

A poem about how art makes me feel.

From my book The Secret Name of Things. Available on Amazon.

[jb-cohen]

[jb-cohen]

[bnmxfld]

If someone makes you feel, let them.

Reyna Biddy

[jb-cohen]

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abandoned homes have sparked so much thought and emotion in me since I was young

[ashes-and-blossoms]

and it took all this time to learn

the hands of a clock won't catch you.

[jb-cohen]

[jb-cohen]