black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

My thoughts feel like plagiarism – a feeling already felt, the words already written.

M.K. Standby

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

Ceiling Healing Love Painting
I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Reality Reminder Scars Thinking
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
I feel like I’m on fire, fighting for a moment on respite – I’m not placing bets.
M.K. STANDBY

Feeling Fire Moments Place
And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.
M.K. STANDBY

End Money Willing Worth
Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.
M.K. STANDBY

Body Lips Name Softness
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
In the pale light of a setting sun – I’ll hold your hand and promise to love you more, on the days that you forget to love yourself.
M.K. STANDBY

Forget Love Hands Hold Promise Sun Yourself
Building a fire from a ash, what did I expect?
M.K. STANDBY

Build Expectation Fire Myself
We didn’t know it was simpler, did we? Those days of sunburnt youth and carefree adventure. Knowing that indestructible optimism would waver with experience – would I have gripped it a little tighter? Held on a little longer?
M.K. STANDBY

Adventure Experience Hold Known Simplicity
The leaves know when to let go – if only I had the same instinct.
M.K. STANDBY

Instinct Known Leave Let Go
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
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
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
Spirits dance on a velvet night, the sky it’s deepest black. In restless sleep and twisted dreams, they find themselves alive.
M.K. STANDBY

Alive Black Dance Dreams Night Spirit

My thoughts feel like plagiarism – a feeling already felt, the words already written.

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My thoughts feel like plagiarism – a feeling already felt, the words already written.

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