black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.

M.K. Standby

The smell of oak reminds me of summers spent sleeping under canvas, crackling fires and roasted coffee, the soft sound of guitar and voices in unison.
M.K. STANDBY

Fire Guitar Reminder Softness Sound Summer Unison Voice
Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.
M.K. STANDBY

Body Lips Name Softness
Scribbled lines and crumpled pages – piles of rejection and resurrection. There will never be the right words to amend a lost goodbye.
M.K. STANDBY

Goodbye Lost Poet Rejection Right Writing
The leaves know when to let go – if only I had the same instinct.
M.K. STANDBY

Instinct Known Leave Let Go
You broke me into pieces, but I took those shards and built a mosaic. I’m stronger for the fall, and more beautiful than I could have ever been with you.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Mosaic Pieces Yourself
You are a mirage – never mine to hold. A glimering promise so tempting to chase, eternally out of reach.
M.K. STANDBY

Forever Mirage Reach Temptation
Painting over cracks as you watch the ceiling fall – not everything can be healed with love.
M.K. STANDBY

Ceiling Healing Love Painting
And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.
M.K. STANDBY

End Money Willing Worth
A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.
M.K. STANDBY

Collection Poison Thought Togetherness
Hollow intent and echoes affection, a call with no response. Who could trust a dormant heart – where apathy is shaped like love?
M.K. STANDBY

Affection Echo Heart Hollow Love Shape Trust
And when I imagine my home – above all else, I’ll always think of you.
M.K. STANDBY

Home Imagination Thinking Yourself
Your arms around me – and for the first time in years, I feel like I am home.
M.K. STANDBY

Home Intimacy Love Myself Relationship Yourself
The knot in a grain of wood, a frost covering sodden grass. Mornings warmed by the rising sun and brewing coffee – the vision of the poet.
M.K. STANDBY

Forest Perspective Poet Rising Vision
The rain reminds me of his voice, a perfectly composed melody in the sky. Each drop that falls against my window, a dedication to the oceans I would cross – just to sit beside him.
M.K. STANDBY

Himself Myself Perfection Rain Reminder Voice
Maybe this time I choose ignorance, because giving began to feel like losing – repairing a house from rubble, and making sandcastles with the ash.
M.K. STANDBY

Beginning Choice Home Ignorance Time
I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.
M.K. STANDBY

Fade Growth Mediocre Myself Page Scare

A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.

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A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.

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