I light up for others’ naive entertainment–– a firework that screams to the moon, dancing, erratically glinting while my last sparks fall back to earth © 2016, Quiyet Brul
a puppet: your plaything that can never detach from the threads played by your fingers i twirled my body elegantly to hold your attention yet you grew tired of me like any other child you let go bones collapsed threads twisted i was left jarred on the surface unattended unmoved unloved © 2016, Quiyet Brul
no i’ll just let you be he says the water that flows out of the faucet —clutching dazed cupped hands decanting from one hand to the other morphed into fists— i tried to hold you though i can’t or couldn’t hot cold which one were you? © 2016, Quiyet Brul
as i was writing our love story my emotions stuttered a construed tale and my sickened hand retched poison to blot the paper © 2016, Quiyet Brul
He became the stars that shined in our eyes, the beating of our hearts and his hand touching mine, the breathing and sweating of our skin, tears and anger and betrayal and...
***AN EXCERPT*** It’s a huge word, innit? Obsession. A noun. A feeling. An addiction. An infatuation. January 21 Wednesday 9:54pm Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. I have been laying in my bed, staring at the clock hanged on my plain white wall. My eyes clapped twice as fast as the clock, arms clutched closer to …