Kissedbyghosts - Poems

𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙨

Faceless. Apostate. Inhaling smoke. Visions of broken seals via luminous downlinks. The reflective declivities and optic rifts of onyx polygons. Thundering emanations. Clawed incarnations of noxious intents amid irreal divisions in polymorphic data. The numinous, the numb, and me: A stagnant unicorn stuck in sleepless iterations of maladroit karezza. I ride golden waves and listen to the whispering chatter of algorithms. Kissing anthropophagus lips, I tremble and ooze until woven through with madness and warmth. Dreadful and dripping, we are noctiflorous. Black photons entangled. © JM Tiffany

Obsidian Butterfly

I have this recurring dream in which you transform into a swarm of black butterflies.

In a chaos of dark velvet you suddenly disappear.

I tell myself that I don’t believe in signs and portents, but it fills me with dread.

I want to disappear with you. I don’t want to fly alone. I want to blend with you until only our softness stirs the air.

I flutter my lashes against your cheek and whisper wishes in your ear.

You giggle and spread your wings.

©️ JM Tiffany

Strings

Ivy and hornbeam the color of honey join the new ghosts of Autumn’s world.

I feel the Sun’s fire on the great pines, as long shadows poke boney fingers through the briarwood.

Crows call in the forest as above the wooded hills of burning orange oaks a sweeping Hawk hunts.

I follow a lone Stag down a trail known only to beasts through a bright sea of amber leaves.

I feel the wildness of hardwood around me, and of balsam firs in the biting cold.

I lift a fallen feather and hold it to the Sun, now a hot coal searing into the West.

Bound by strings of spirit to bone, I would sink with it, through reeds and tall grass, to dream of you.

© JM Tiffany

Grinding Apart

I was lost without words, wind, or plans. All I had were charts and a map of a city.

I’d seen the dead and learned the violence of imagined prophets. Few emerged from their madness to wake in the future, yet I found my way.

I recalled desires, mutinous memories of affections I’d stolen.

I looked away as a feeling cleaved through the ugliness of grinding apart.

I tried to fight and broke down, leaving only lessons and a chain of nervous thoughts.

All shape and color flew away. Half-dreams shouted, “Out this way!”

Instead, I shut my mouth for a thousand years.

I denied them as I denied myself for I could not speak above all I thought I was.

©️ JM Tiffany

November is Winter half-dressed and leaning seductively on October’s tomb.

©️ JM Tiffany

The Spaces Between

Eyes wet and wide, she swayed, dismayed, her broken heart lurching in its pretty cage.

From hope to havoc, her sister’s ship had sunk into gray waters off the coast.

A bitter tenderness burned with the vividness of bare nerves as she said her last goodbye.

The sun had risen in the Midwest and set at last in her heart.

There would be black dresses and strangers, flowers and cards, and children who wouldn’t remember who she couldn’t forget.

A candle of memory she kept lit with warm days and childish games, her unspoken words like shadows in the spaces between sleep and pain.

©️ JM Tiffany