black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

And in the end-you didn’t deserve my thoughts or my ink.
M.K. STANDBY

Break Up Deserve Heart Thinking
Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.
M.K. STANDBY

Haunt Heart Ink Ourselves Poet Story
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
In the end it’s all the same – the hearty fire or the damp earth. I pray I’m not alone.
M.K. STANDBY

Alone Earth Myself Prayer
I see the way that he is with you – holding your heart with softness he never spared for mine.
M.K. STANDBY

Jealousy Myself Relationship See Way
I sit by the sea wall, willing the waves to stay. Pulling away with gentle abandon – they avenge me for doing the same.
M.K. STANDBY

Abandonment Myself Sea Stay Wall Wave
A dishonor greater than any affair, is that of a friend who never was.
M.K. STANDBY

Affair Friendship Greatness
And when I imagine my home – above all else, I’ll always think of you.
M.K. STANDBY

Home Imagination Thinking Yourself
I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Reality Reminder Scars Thinking
Just tell me that it won’t be the same- that one day I won’t look at you, and only see a stranger.
M.K. STANDBY

Future Myself People Stranger
Leaves dance on twisted arms, swaying on the breeze as though choreographed by unseen hands. Even the faithless could find themselves converts, by the smell of dampened earth and its blossoming rose.
M.K. STANDBY

Blossom Dance Earth Faith Hands Leave Rose Twist
Don’t waste your words on me, your face speaks in volumes that your breath could never reach.
M.K. STANDBY

Breathe Face Reach Waste Word
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
Building a fire from a ash, what did I expect?
M.K. STANDBY

Build Expectation Fire Myself
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

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.

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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.

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