black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.

M.K. Standby

Your kisses fell on me like sand through an hourglass – a thousand tiny moments, for an eternity of stillness.
M.K. STANDBY

Fall Heart Kiss Moment
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
I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Reality Reminder Scars Thinking
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
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
I wished to every fountain, prayed to every god but some futures are set in stone – so here we go again.
M.K. STANDBY

Fountain Future Myself Prayer Stone
It started the way it always does. A broken heart, and a blank page.
M.K. STANDBY

Heart Broken Page Start
A dishonor greater than any affair, is that of a friend who never was.
M.K. STANDBY

Affair Friendship Greatness
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
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
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
So long as we share a sky, in this life and any after – I’ll find my way back to you.
M.K. STANDBY

Finding Share Sky Way Yourself
Born in one country and raised in another – seperated by ocean, but tied in blood.
M.K. STANDBY

Blood Country Immigrant Ocean
My thoughts feel like plagiarism – a feeling already felt, the words already written.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Plagiarism Thinking Writing
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
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

Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.

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Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.

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Popular Authors

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