Evon Christian

The sun scorches everything
It breathes on, it breathes in,
Lingering ashes wafting in the air,
Yet I cannot find my sun-seared heart,
...

The flower-of-an-hour was always cruel
And never shown in your everyday smile,
When walking about in the snowfall
You said, “we are for each other, ”
...

I never knew how something fragile
And beautiful
could exhaust itself before me,
Or how even the immaculate have flaws;
...

-an outline of my conversations with Michael

what a waste of a day,
and you change my stupid,
...

For Caitlin

Her instrument was of eluding beauty,
and she whispered it so
...

The words never uttered on our breath
Created a silence that was deafening to the heart,
The icy halos, casting crowns at our footsteps
When all love has been misled,
...

As I had finished writing poetry with a calligraphy pen, I held it haphazardly over a translucent glass. A tiny driblet of ink sinuously slid off the pen tip and into the liquid. I watched the dropp permeate the water with whirling motions until the uppermost portion of the water was occupied with ink. At that time, a thousand tiny droplets depressed towards the bottom of the glass like anguished souls. The color was now a solid, sullen black....
...

The beauty with the yellow rose...
She is dead, darling.
...