Saturday, July 8, 2017

I Really Believed You Couldn't Hurt Me




Spiraling into my own pages
to lose contact and get lost
It makes me cry to listen to music that I 
hardly understand, but it's
the closest thing to your voice that I know
And I can't touch it, so inhaling
anything possible might help 
to spend time away
Spending the nights away sucks more and more
What else is there to ask for
before crossing the line?
Please don't answer that
The answer might be terrifying 
And here I thought you couldn't hurt me...


~Tina Meeks

Saturday, July 1, 2017

What Kind of Night is This?




Dust filled air and lungs
Plunge for the occasion
The night skies have been hiding until now
Object permanence leaves a silhouette 
like vines upon brick walls
Ripped down
 
 
 
~Tina Meeks