Author: scarlettlockett
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viridis
It worries me that I have not a word to say, not a singular thing to give back to Mother Earth that would be worthwhile of my birth. A person, I am only, chemcially alive yet scarcely concious. Insular to you I must be! Such a miniscule blemish of being. Please, have my promises…
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Los Angeles
Thank you for the wings. It is time I find a home to fly to. P.S. Your sky is heavenly. You took the silvering stars from our eyes and cushioned them on pillows of graying smog. Perhaps so we’d always have an illusionary piece of ourselves to look up to and perilously pursue.
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miel de duranzo (an ode to summer)
El día se deterrite a mañana. Los colores dulces del cielo andan pintando las flores y frutas. I lose myself in summer, Wholly submerged In the neon blue of the ice cold drinks We dance with, Under indigo dyed skies You can only see When you elope with the whales on the Pacific blue.…
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thank you for the flowers
I no longer mourn all that could have been, the graveyard has closed its gates. I’ve left all the lilies I needed to there. I’m going back home to a garden tended to with patience, softly romantic in nature, graced with emerald growth. How sweet is it, that oxygen found its way to…
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Life on Mars
It’s bliss. All of our cosmic kisses shape the constellations that they pray to grab a glimspe of. Vanishing from the intrusion of their telescopes, appearing in the embrace of your orbit, you hold my gaze with tenderness, to protect the eyes that always gravitate towards you, the only lens you want to stay…
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Espíritu Libre (Free Spirit)
These days I only wish to run, and I know I said I would be done fleeing from, chasing stuff, burning through everything and anything encountered on the asphalt. But for once I want my feet to hit the pavement with the ferocious velocity of a slug, the rhythm of a flirty manakin or…
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El Comienzo del Siglo de Oro
En la dulzura de la soledad, Puse manos a la obra, La muñeca temblando, Pintando la oscuridad Que resaltaba en mi alma. No deseo ocultarla, Si no entregarles Los vitrales que juntan mi corazón Broken may be my heart yet it is throned in a cathedral high with the heavens, in congregation with…
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Primavera (Por Primera Vez)
Out of the black came a soul I could finally send home. Por la primera vez, I dusted the ashes, dried the ink and laid this narrative to rest in the archives. Through the heavy rain, my heart took its first steps in rightful revelation, unveiling a natural tinge of colorful conviction. Who…
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The Death of my Imagination
It’s like Getting right up to the altar, And becoming Consumed by a carbon black Hole, Our ash blue bodies returning right back to the borrower- Absolute nothingness.
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Ice Age
Winter has penetrated My atmosphere for years. Bone shivers, Silvery icicles Formed in the hollows Of my heart. Where is the Sun for my spring? The blue of birds Refracted right by the sky Reflected in your Button black coffee scraps eyes. What a prairie life It could be To reap the ripe fruits Of…
The Scarlett Locket 