Poetry & Prose

I’m driving down the night
with nothing but the moon
in my rear-view mirror
and a blade of frost
between my thumbs.
I can feel the morning chasing
with each breath
fogging the windscreen.
I turn a corner and
see us written in the stars
too high for it to mean anything
but for me it means everything;
I can feel my the world again.
I can let morning come
without a struggle.

Michel LazzaroThe Mornings Were So Dark and Cold

It’s shaping up to be quite a storm,
she said as she poured her voice
into another shot of tequila.
You always were the optimist;
staying awake, hoping the wind will pick you up
and drag you away.

The splintered shutters were banging;
I climbed the stairs alone.
Crawled along the floorboards, alone;
with each breath catching barbed-wires
she etched into my chest. I fell into bed.
You always wore that smile —
the one that lit half your face with fire
and the other half with pain.

I don’t think tomorrow will last long,
I tell myself as darkness comes.
I can hear her voice, laughing
as she flattens my home, again.

Michel Lazzaro I don’t believe my own stories

In clear September there is a shadow
dancing circles around the sun;
and the clouds are screaming freedom.

Oh summer days, your love is fading
with the morning mist. We are sinking
into the forests on horseback, calloused feet
and skin that will soon forget salty sweat
and fearsome storms of a chaotic sea.

In clear September we rise and wave farewell
to a sky we once walked below.
It is time to run; time to trip on roots and streams —
the cold has not yet gripped our hearts —
we must chase the footprints of a shadow
leading us toward another adventure.

Michel Lazzaro  | Clear September 

We wanted to feel the wind
between our knees.
But the laughter turned to screams
as the branches we held
broke with all our sins.
We wanted the same things,
the nightingale sings.
Life, love, happiness and
warm hands in the coldest streams.
But the night creeps in
as grey snow coats the trees.
Soon the sap will freeze
and snap; we must learn to fly.
Spare a note for the loneliest of kings
as he spreads his feathers
and leaves for another spring.

Michel LazzaroNightingales
Bookshelves Complete: 2/3
The Library wall is nearing perfection.

Bookshelves Complete: 2/3
The Library wall is nearing perfection.

Yeh, I say the wrong thing,
sometimes more than once.
And yeh, I steal the blankets
even when I don’t feel the cold.
And yeh, the darkness creeps
into my bones when I’m alone.
But I will light a fire
before you come home.
And I’ll search the dictionary
for a word that lets you know
you’re my etched in my very soul.
I couldn’t find the right one
so I started writing poems.
But I’ve begun to realize
that soon they’ll become novels.

Michel LazzaroI talk too much and not enough

In the failing light
we counted fireflies
bursting out the trees
and though we knew the rain was coming
we sank toward our knees.
I remember the sunsets dimly now
the years have turned to dreams.
But our fireflies shone brighter then
than a thousand galaxies.

Michel LazzaroFond Memories (via elzaro)

I am avoiding the clock.
She’s laughing at my eyes.
I’ve always been scared of the dark.
The silence is suffocating.
I am buried deep tonight.

Michel Lazzaro  | Five Sentences #1

Pascalle
our ends are beginnings

(Source: le0night)

mstrkrftz:

Follow The Colors by Toby Harriman

In the ashes of love
I’ve found a spark,
and I’ll treasure it dearly
for it is my heart.
A fragment of dreams
and demons both
but I’ll always remember,
I control the smoke.

Michel LazzaroYou aren’t watching your life on a movie screen

foxmouth:

Landscapes, 2014 | by Anthony Samaniego