Cheyenne Rhon

The shine from a star's light,
Illuminates my dark sky tonight.
Though, you may not notice my delight,
I am grateful for the beautiful sight.
...

Just a thought...
Secrets are fertile seeds,
Purposely buried in desolate plots.
Disseminate them with caution,
...

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Lovely curves undisturbed,
Black caffeine and words.

Tight lips part to sip,
...

There is a meaning somewhere,
Behind those sighs and whatevers,
Unintentional cold exteriors,
Who blankly stare sideways,
...

The remnants of the character,
That stands by my side holds me,
Without a reason why.
...

Nostalgia comes with the Nicotine.
Marlboro and Memories are in the smoke,
It's not the same, when I cough and choke,
For my fingers never flicked that lighter,
...

A burning hole above my chest,
Is black and shallow,
In the shape of a lovers hand,
That left a mark as an open scar.
...

This isn't my home,
Along with the other restless souls,
Though wandering gets me closer,
To what feels whole.
...

This girl in a black cocktail dress,
Sat next to me.
Swayed across the scuffed tile,
With her cup of diluted tea,
...

I've been to the in-between,
Where desolation is found,
And loneliness may suffice,
But the echo of a voice,
...

Sliding down a rail,
Of a displaced staircase,
Blind,
By your arms,
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There is no name,
When you're screaming in silence,
Under a skin of sugar and decay.
Though, licking those fingers,
...

The click is the recognition,
Though, I can't say how?

What's in that look?
...

Because death is inevitable,
And my expiration is unknown.
"I don't hate you" are just words,
When you're staring at a white wall,
...

Life's temporary pleasures inspire guilty fixations.
Shallowness devours the manifestations of beauty,
Exposing the tightness of skin and plump lips,
And the undeniable scent of sexual sweat.
...

Droplets leak into our universe,
Leaving smudges of subtle change,
Among the yielding minds.
The dark matter spatters,
...

A uniformed daze,
And a caffeinated delay,
Sets my haste,
In a slicked back sense of a mess.
...

Who rewired my brain when I was five?
For a right-handed world that deprives,
My short-circuiting mind,
That spews sparks of visions,
...

The shrill of a howl ignites a Fox's delight,
Red! Red! Red, must confess…
Instincts aren't as wild as they seem.
They're only steps to a choreographed dance,
...