I tried to reach and reach and reach and now what? ©2016, Quiyet Brul
Parallel lines have so much in common It’s a shame that they would never meet If somehow they met and overlapped just once, would they be inseparable Or would they grow apart farther? Parallel lines that do not meet are much better At least they grow together side-by-side forever © 2016, Quiyet Brul
The stench of our sweat dancing through the air choreographed by the slow rising and falling of our chests to the synchronized beats of our hearts and the harmony of our clenched fingers playing piano on our skins makes our hips clap harder along with the classic cheering of the gasps we make But tonight …
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...