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Anton In the years that have since passedAnton by ~heartandsoulpoet
I was Chekhov;
Masterful in brevity, not so much
In maintaining our longevity.
You were my mistress, my literature,
But my medicine was lacking.
Through tempests and train rides,
I remained stoic but you shifted and changed.
From my neglect you bore your wings.
And like a seagull you flew,
Taking with you pieces of my soul
And creativity, doting on
The Joyce’s of the world, your beauty.
You left me only questions; no answers.
My downfall and my legacy.
Morning Commute Early morning in late AprilMorning Commute by ~heartandsoulpoet
And the chill is less noticeable
Below ground.
Isolated, desolated; quiet.
But the light rail train is here,
In a rush of sudden air.
I board and begin moving, racing
Through the silent darkness.
Bursting to the surface,
To cross the river, I find
No blinding light or blue sky.
It is gray on the horizon and
Snow, lost on it’s journey to earth,
Tumbles waywardly, everywhere.
Passing next to the resilient rail
Of commerce trains, going
In the opposite direction,
I sigh
and tuck away all my earlier notions
that this might be a good day.
Another Broken Lullaby I have grown so weak as of late and my tolerance for such lack of internal fortitude has been far too high to be of any good. I used to have faith, you see. And so it was having this faith, that we must break and bend to love and crumble before another, soul exposed and bleeding out our lives, that I embarked to take such reckless chances.Another Broken Lullaby by ~heartandsoulpoet
So, I pace the airport terminal. Flight: delayed. Again. One half-drained latte in my right hand, gory lipstick smeared around the rim, and a mocha, ice cold by now in the other. I make a broad circle: look out the large windows facing onto the street where lovers caress as they pop perfectly perfu
Artistic 
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I'm Fuckin' Innocent,
They Won't Break Me!
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Try to fly with the wings I gave you
Try to do what you believe
and I will save you.
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~*a ruffled mind makes a restless pillow*~