Wes Thompson Poems

I have been told
that I had a name
and I let it leave me
now I am free
...

it's sorry days not worth reliving
that keep the stars so unforgiving
on nights that seem to melt into
forgotten breaths which form the dew
...

I once knew a prophet full of dreams;
she could see beyond the skies,
but her every word was lost to me
when she gazed into my eyes.
...

god this is strange thinking back on your face
all of the flowers and letters and lace
cutting a pill with a dull butter knife
sedating the kitchen is all the more rife
...

crawling forward
from dreams of hope
with eyes half open
we see
...

it doesn't take much dedication
stars collapsing into holes
pressured carbon masses
we'll all turn into coal
...

what I always
wanted to say
sounds so pretty
in my head
...

I spoke of pretty little things,
of moon spun silk,
recollections of kissing her soft neck-
but only to shroud my honesty,
...

you would like to admit
that you would like to imagine
when she closes her eyes
you're what her darkness drags in
...

in the morning
when my forehead was still warm
dreams still in my head
I had so much more to say
...