You are the embodiment of desire
The image of shimmering perfection
You can take the hearts of men
 And wrap them around your delicate fingers
Your smile sparkles like purest gold
Your porcelain face acts like a mask
Hiding what thoughts might be in your scheming mind
You could melt a heart of ice
Shatter a heart of stone
None can resist you
Blood could be spilled upon your hands
 And none would think to accuse you of any misdeed
You are beautiful
And terrible
Just like that fickle emotion which you signify.

COMMENTARY: This was one of the first poems I ever wrote 'seriously' I suppose.  It won second place at my freshman Latin convention, and was later published in my school's literary magazine as well as illustrated for a joint venture with the creative writing class and the art dept. at school.  The illustration was lovely, too bad I didn't have the guts to take it.

eve&adam
(a one sided conversation in 3 parts)

.I.
eve’s offer

i offer this apple to you
its perfect flesh
sweeter than mine
will quench
the gnawing
need for knowledge
in our souls
for the price
of heaven
i found it
off the tree
from which the serpent hangs.

.II.
give a reason

explain how
i could be a part of you
when even
my breath
feels different
never will I be
your rib
i am my own
risen from the dust
not the bones
of one I have
never met.

.III.
never eden

i did not ask
for eden
only wanted
your gentleness
the rain
on my cheeks
scent of flowers
in a little garden
maybe
a simple dress
not
this place so perfect
as a newborn leaf
torn
by our sinful eyes.

COMMENTARY: This is meant to be Eve talking to Adam.  A little feminist, as you can see... I guess I just prefer the idea that God created them both out of dust better than the idea that she came from his rib.
 
 
 
 

hey boy
you got a black heart
that you painted gold
hey boy
you like to dress people up like dolls
and then throw them away
when you’ve broken them
hey boy
all dressed up too
an elaborate disguise of light
to hide the shadows inside
somebody’s going to see through you

COMMENTARY: Another poem that was included in the illustration project.  I actually have the picture for this one (somewhere ._.), since it was done by someone I knew, and it's fittingly a picture of the character it was written about.  This character isn't in any stories I have up, but trust me, he's not very nice.
 

small town murder

it happened like a mosquito bite
quick and painless for the victim, but
leaving a sore lump on the skin of the town that was always begging to be scratched
so that the pain of it could surface
and stand in everyone's attention for a few minutes more

COMMENTARY: Not a lot to say about this one, except that I liked the concept better than the execution.  I got the idea during the times of the school shootings, because I felt that extensive media coverage was only making the situation worse.
 

healing
i'd like to take your heart
and sit in the corner
and chisel it
slowly, gently
until i can feel its warmth in my hands
then i'd quietly slip it back
and wait
and hope.

COMMENTARY: I actually wrote this poem for a character from a defunct RPG.  It was published in my HS's lit mag.

in this

In the core of the fire in the earth
And the layers that burn from the heat
In the soil that trembles as it calls forth the flowers
I love you
In the old gray grass suffering under the sun
The tenderness of nature’s rain kiss
In the dew stroking the leaf as it slips
Spattering, impaled on the blades of the lawn
I love you
In the ice in my veins
Melted by the warmth of your words
In the darkness
of my room in the morning
I love you
As the horizon draws the sun closer
Swallowing the daylight
The honey in a flower’s heart
As the bee steals away
I dream to see your face
And in this, I love you

COMMENTARY: This was a stylistic imitation of the great poet Pablo Neruda, who wrote fabulous love poetry.  It appeared in extremely edited (please note without my knowledge or realization until later) form in my HS's lit mag.  So even though I kind of like this poem, thinking of it irritates me because of how the staff slaughtered it (they did that to a lot of poems in that edition.  I tried to make sure such slaughtering did not occur when I edited the magazine the next year.