marblestaircases

[marblestaircases]

Brown skin, furrowed brow

A beautiful tapestry

Your heart feels like mine.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

The magic lies under the surface.

Beauty does not need to be proven.

It simply is.

By virtue of being.

I do not need to prove

my worthiness to anyone.

Don’t you see it in my smile?

Hear it in my laugh?

Perceive it in my stories?

Feel it in my poetry?

Beauty adorns me-

shining from the inside out.

I will not hide my body in shame.

She has done the best she could

with what she had.

As we all do.

It’s in her resilience-

staring in the face of absurdity

that demands perfection of its host-

that is where her beauty lies.

In the corner of her mouth,

in the squint of her eye,

in her poet’s hands.

Come feel the magic inside.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

Time smears paint over memory.

It leaves little marks and divots.

Smooths and creases.

Till we are stranger to ourselves.

Till our past, once bright and raw

becomes faded-

like a coffee stain ring

on your favorite book.

We sit here at the table

speaking in abstractions

about the events going on,

about people who are strangers now

dipping gently into emotion-

hovering so much closer to the surface.

We are not so volatile as we used to be.

Before, we read our feelings

out loud to each other.

Now they are tucked away

where our mother’s scent rests

where we keep the memory

of each other’s wide smiles

in the summer sunset-

over hundreds of ecstatic nights-

back when we were young.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

Decades from now

they will whisper

how they didn’t see the signs.

Behind their Bibles

behind their guns

they will say,

that he seemed like

a true patriot.

They will not identify themselves

as complicit in the removal

of our identity.

They will mourn the war

they caused.

They will ask

how it happened

as the fires burn

as the people die

as their rights are torn away.

They will not learn from history

doomed to repeat

in the ever ending cycles

till the planet we killed

kills us.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

— Daphne du Maurier

[marblestaircases]

In this quiet room,

we keep secrets

that only love allows.

Far away from prying eyes

and greedy hearts.

We are as we ever were

and wholly new.

The hands of time have reshaped us,

leaving echoes of who we were

when we were in love.

Tenderness creeps into each caress

The new shapes of us

Both stranger and known.

The ache of youth has softened

Leaving us to chart

a new course

in the quiet morning.

We wait for something.

Or perhaps nothing.

Time has more work to do.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

A chapter closes.

A resounding final echo.

I open my palm-

the remainder of you

I held in my skin,

is released

to dance in the wind.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

My god, the cost!

There is no value

high enough to calculate

what I lost.

My god, the pain!

There is no medicine

strong enough to subdue

the burning ragged flesh.

My god, the time!

There is no mechanism

capable of restoring

the time I lost grieving you.

The seconds removed from my life.

My god the ache!

It creeps in,

spreading through my bones.

An arctic chill.

Freezing me

from the inside, out.

[marblestaircases]

My body hurts.

The weight of you

once so familiar in pleasure

now chokes me in your absence.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

Let’s play pretend.

You can touch me and not feel regret.

You can see me and not feel disgust.

You can remember that you loved me

I can pretend I don’t know what you really think.

Let’s play pretend.

Let’s pretend it’s as natural as breathing

for you to knock on my door.

Let’s pretend as you lay me down on the couch you didn’t break my heart on it

622 days ago.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

I am full of ancient longing.

My chest is a desire filled cavity.

It fights the disease of humanity.

Oh, to be transported-

to find softer ground

for my weary feet.

To find lighter air

for my tired lungs.

To find incomprehensible joy

for my tortured heart.

I still dream

of an impossible Door.

A entry way to magic and mystery

A portal to a new, more colorful shore

to fight my shades of gray.

I still dream

Like a million others before me.

Hoping against hope

to be called Home.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

My headcanon is Christopher goes to sleep every night watching Coco, and the first time he saw it, he wept. I hope he gets to go Home soon.

Christopher Flores ✨️💀🏵🦴☀️

[marblestaircases]

We fold into each other naturally

Like two interlocking puzzle pieces.

I could lay with you forever.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

You are less of a reality to me now.

More like a specter-

I feel your spirit move

through the halls-

in my bed.

Creeping into each moment

Turning even the sunlight

ghostly gray.

The physical ache persists-

Somehow, astonishingly, consistent.

Missing you-

it drives me mad.

I can feel the twist of longing.

Nothing can suppress it.

I try to talk myself down,

Talk myself out.

Remind myself-

It has been years of silence.

No closure.

You discarded me for the arms of another.

How is it possible?

These thoughts,

still churning-

in never ending cycles

Still creating damage after so long.

What creature subjects themselves

permanently to cruelty such as this?

You are not real.

You are a ghost.

Perpetually haunting my house.

Except you are the one alive

And I am the one dead.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

In the afternoon sun

my hands traced lazy circles

on your bare back.

Bodies encircling,

every inch known.

I wrote my hopes and dreams

in runes and cursive letters

flooding your skin

with my joy and desire.

You had asked me once

what I was writing.

How could I tell you?

That what dreams

I pressed into your skin

were impossible even then.

I just didn’t know it yet.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

The garden of my soul

has begun to bloom again.

The seeds carefully planted,

excruciatingly tended to

have broken through

what was once solid ground.

When the rain comes

will they remain strong and bright?

Will the soil protect them

and the roots remain firm?

The garden blooms regardless.

Whether rain may come,

whether wind may blow.

See how the petals spread,

finding the morning sun.

They do not know the future,

they bask in the joy of the moment.

Growing stronger in spite of everything.

-S. Burke

[marblestaircases]

I like my soft belly

I like my thick thighs.

I like my round face.

I like my wide smile.

I like my small feet.

I like my gentle spirit.

How is this an act of rebellion?

To love myself how I come?

I find peace in my heart

when I try to grow for me

Instead of growing to fit

the shape someone else has molded.

-S. Burke