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tiffani Elizabeth back

poetry

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  • metaphors

    I don’t know what’s good anymore. I write, and write. there’s a collection of past emotions pilled up between the pages in the notebooks that raid the cupboard, and I don’t know what I feel anymore. I write, and write. I don’t know if those feelings still reside and hold a place in the veins…

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  • intuition

    intuition clearfour cold hot wheelsride out on steelfar out to healpast endeavors a thrilllocksmith drillI knew it long before you. call it rules of clue.

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  • missing

    it rained againI sworeI sinnedbutterfly deadin above headlight fixture picturepaintings on the wallthe one you always callmissing

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  • muse

    drama is an illusion, a form of self-abusebut that doesn’t prove to say I wasn’t being used.tied to a belief system that ignites my every fusean experimental game, the process of pick and choose.but in a way I was using you too. call it product of passion and if I needed an excuse, I’d tell…

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  • paradise sick

    sunshine petalcascade branchI guess painallows us to advance like rain poursand washes the shoresback into the seaI wanted you to see me sparingly it was your fingertipsthat burned into meand it’s the memory of youbreathing on top of me I got twisted in your touchand curious about your lovethat I burned us outquicker than a…

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