black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

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

Beyond Hold Language Limitation Scope
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
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
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
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
My throat burns with the words left unspoken, air hangs still and silence hides the words you long to hear – stay.
M.K. STANDBY

Burn Hesitate Silence Stay Talk Throat
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 feel like I’m on fire, fighting for a moment on respite – I’m not placing bets.
M.K. STANDBY

Feeling Fire Moments Place
I think the scars that you left me, they remind me you were real.
M.K. STANDBY

Myself Reality Reminder Scars Thinking
What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?
M.K. STANDBY

Beautiful Dreams Love Reality Sleep
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

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.

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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.

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Popular Authors

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