Every smile you bring me
Is sunlight searching for a way through
An empty sky
Overcome with burning stars.
Searching
Constellation
You don’t look like the moon,
even when you said
she is your favorite mirror.
You said I reminded you of the sun
in clementine and amber before
the rushing black.
But I think we are a map
of stars. Organized above the sky,
a pattern meant to meld together
instead of existing apart.
-Lynsie Sitler
Bad Times Poetry
Ash
I’ve always loved
the way smoke curls in long warm tendrils
into the velvet black.
My mouth to yours.
I wonder if it hurts you
the way it hurts me?
I want the sky
At night
Twinkling pinholes in velvet
To something bright behind
I want to see
Above the curtain.
I want the sea
At night
To wrap myself in icy velvet
And find out what’s below.