Ashland by Nicole Barth [9/10/12]

If they could see how your fingers curl
around a strand of my morning hair,

your breath like silk
on my honest skin,

They would be
as in love with you as I am.

The parentheses that hold your smile.

 Beauty in its simplicity.

Alive in the silence of filtered sunlight.

My thoughts
frozen in a waiting line.

Wait by Nicole Barth [9/4/12]

Melancholy nights hit you.

And there's no reason for it,
besides searching for the image of
something you've never seen before.

That gnawing persistence that washes away the
limestone of your ribs.

No effortless stanzas in the precomposed
version of a perfected meditation.

If you only knew how to begin.

Melic by Nicole Barth [9/2/12]

We crave to be the inspiration. 

I know that in me are

the bones of a better woman.

You are the quiet in the midst of raging cities.

And I know we are all a little bit damaged.

You mend the silence that hurts to hold. 

Awake by Nicole Barth [7/18/12]

I could see for miles and miles,
Past the kisses that lingered on my lips
And the sonorous consonants, too heavenly to utter.

What if I could wish you into my arms?
Everything I whispered followed you home,
Through the river of concrete interstates
And unforgiving highways.

Until the Sun Blackens by Nicole Barth [7/18/12]

Children get bigger
But their hearts don’t grow up.
And you’re just as tender as the day I met you.

The night lacked stars.
And you felt you’d gone as far as you would ever go.

The  willow tree leaned toward you in the storm,
Like a drunken man, desperate to feel included .

I clung to the sound of the rain against the ironwork on my window.
It numbed the sting of returning the creases of your smile
To the wooden box of memories by my bed.

Ethereal by Nicole Barth [7/11/12]

Your voice like the vibrant notes
from acoustic guitar strings.

I would sing you my acrylic dreams.

The night you wrapped you arms around me.
A trail of incandescent laughter.

Every particle,
comforted by your kiss.

In the Morning by Nicole Barth [7/3/12]

Talk to me in the morning,

before the afternoon shivers across your face,

and the rusting car backfires below my window.

Before the refractions end their dance over the

cracks in my ceiling,

and the city smog calls to me.

*inspired by Alexander Pseudonym