Micah Park Biffle

   Logan's Demons    Logan weeps as he watches it all burn. The smoke rising like death from a wintry rest. He cannot help but feel the world upon his chest. His eyes flooding beneath his feet, his hands wrapped upon his face like a mask.  But he cannot hide the misery that bellows from his sorrowed soul. He is alone, a solitude man with far fetched dreams. Reaching, falling, they slip through his fingers like light. Catching only the darkness that is left behind.  Even the birds that flutter about veer from his existence. They have abandoned all trees, all of natures touch. For Logan has breached the soils of earth with rotted roots. Piercing the once flourishing greens of his land.  But he is poisoned, poisoned by the ache of his heart. His eyes drivel with sorrow, sadness has sunk into his gut. Heavy be even the smallest breath. His flesh as pale as the dead, and like the dead, he feels no more.  He feels only the decay that has g...

    Digging your own Grave?   How eager your lips spill with contempt for any step you must take. Never forced to be as you are, yet you slither with slime, sulking in the suffering of your own making. Your eyes drivel with tears as if the world should feel pity.   Your back slouched in answer of your own lack of self confidence. You confine your sorrows in drinks or, the bitter taste of your sour tongue. Contorting words with jealousy as you waddle your way with billowed blame.   Your heavy heart rests at the bottom of your gut, like a forgotten memory, rotting. Stuck in a rut, your eyes fixed downward. Looking to your feet as you raise your hand to the sky with a finger of criticism of those that speak well.   You kneel as the soils beneath your frail bones become sullied in tears. No longer can it bear the standing pressure of your chiding thoughts. You must spread your weight upon your soft ground. Your foundation is uncertain. ...

 Holding Dearly    In my arms I hold my wife, her heart silent. Her skin as pale as the snow. She is cold, no longer holding warmth. Her embrace has vanished and her face is no longer familiar. Her lingering soul I feel though, I feel it upon my chest.  I hear her voice speak softly, telling me to let go. But I cannot not. I cannot let such a love vanish so swiftly. This is not how I saw it, this is not how it should have ended. Our souls were meant for the ever lasting.  We were meant to see a thousand sunsets and kiss a thousand moons. Now here I stand, alone in our house, the fire sparking its last coals. Winter settling its arms upon the valley and my breath seeping like mist from the mountains.   Feeling every piece of me crumble like the dying leaf. How pitiful I be, holding dear the lifeless vessel of my wife. I know I need to let her go, I know she is no longer her. But my heart still weeps, a hole has burrowed through my ribs and into m...

  Roman's Love    Out from the thunderous clouds he fell. Flames rage, enveloping his body like fiery winds. He his voiceless, motionless as he falls. Descending to the crust of earth. Falling from stars like a meteor sent for destruction.   Colliding with the earth at a wild speed he is forced through many layers of soil. Stones crumble, dirt flings, and hidden streams of water are revealed. His momentum is ceased after the resistance of earth becomes sufficient.   He now lays dormant in the belly of the earth. Hours go by before he becomes conscience of thought. He awakes in a mad jolt, as if rising from a nightmare. His body beads with sweat as his lethargic mind awakens. He stumbles to his feet looking up at a blue sky.   He looks to his body and feels himself with concern. He focuses his thoughts to where he may be. And how he has arrived in this unknown space. His hazel eyes dart about the cavernous crater his impact has caused.   H...

 Severed Filament    We were something or so I wish to say. But I know we were but a momentary filament. A connection quickly severed by timing. An unwilling heart to expose itself sat shivering beneath my chest. I swallowed every ounce of fear as if an antidote for disease.   Shortly lived were we. Our light dimmed by insecurities. Our hearts never to spark a lasting light. Doomed from the start. I fumbled the bulb and upon my ribs it broke. Shattering to the bleak hallows of my thoughts. A swamp seeping with pity as if sadness will attract is an attraction for love.   What heart desires the weak? What heart desires the glum of a lonely soul? None, and those that stand preaching they do. Are merely looking for pity to fix that which lies within their own skin. But deny the remedy to heal.    Their hearts always given to another, never to please themselves. They walk with eyes lethargic to beauty. Clambering to fill a void with more sadness...

  Mirror Hill    Today, I take myself to the edge of Mirror Hill. It has been a long day, a day where I feel lost, dropped from my path and left to wander with idle wrath. Fighting to keep myself from breaking into million different parts. Only to end up as a broken as a doll on a shelf praying for the aging girl to pick me up. But times change and I must accept that I am no longer the hot toy of today. So I must work, change, find myself a better me, a better way, adapt to that which will give me praise.  And here I am, ink and page, sitting atop Mirror Hill, where it leaps to the bounds of the clouds and is found to be the place of quiet sounds and inspiration. Do not get mixed that this shall be thoughts of rhymes, I merely took trap to my own often annoying scheme to rhyme.   So let us begin, let us drive our eyes into the thoughts of my aging bones and fading mind.   There secretes this bitter taste of lemons from this open view. I s...

   A Spanish Paradise  It is a start, a new seeking of life. Her heart has never been the same and how badly she wants it back. How dearly she wants to caress the moon with her lips and the sun her heart. Delicately letting her soul unfold like the blooming of a flower beneath the cool rain of spring.   And so Melody takes to the skies with a one way ticket to her paradise. To a small town in South America where she had gone once before as a child, visiting her grandfather. She remembers the buildings, how warm their sandstone colors were.   How elegantly the sun danced off the artistry of the horizon against the mountains covered in the lushness of nature. How beautifully the glow of the moon glittered upon the stone streets after a rainy day.   So much beauty, so much history in each curve, each arch, each stone. Everything is painted so well in her memory. She looks down from her seat through the window of the plane and sees the cascade of fl...

A Pocket Flower   I breathe upon the cold morning glass as I look out into the open plains of the country. And with my finger I draw a heart splitting in two, it quickly fades. I look back out into the world and design a new one.   I let my senses roam wild as imagination rushes from my head like water. Flooding my view with bountiful ideas. I see titans clashing, gods fighting, I see mysteries lingering in the lonely mist. I see monsters creeping from the distant moons and music flow gently from the darkened woods.   I watch golden leaves fall as the sun begins to rise. The soft tone of frozen grass begins to sparkle. I see birds thrust from their nests and chirp to the vast outreaches of nature. I am overwhelmed by what I see, and I smile.   I breathe again upon the cold morning glass. But this time, I draw a single heart held together. I let it fade as the last, but this time I breathe upon the glass once more. I observe the heart I drew with much thou...

A Whole Heart     How do you find the courage to be loved again? To be open to the risk of pain and torment? How does one become whole again in the adventure of love? What must be done to no longer be at the limits of your walls? What must I do?  I think this as I sit alone, picking at the pieces of my heart. Placing them upon a table, motionless. Pieces of something that used to flourish, prosper beneath the gentle cool of the stars. Carefully I prod and poke with the edge of a blade. Investigating the scars, the creases, the cracks. Every inch of every piece.   Hoping to find an answer, a missing link. A remedy of a broken heart. But all I can find are wounds, scabs that have churned grey and blood that ceases to pour. A crust like the earth has settled upon my ventricles. Clotting any chance of breath. My heart is merely a representation of what was.   A sad ensemble of horrific cuts. A collage of regrets covered in the misery of rejection...

 A Servant Heart No more I cannot tell you what shall come of me, I am no god no titan. I bare no vision of my future. I am merely a man, a human. A straggling piece of flesh left by god. A possible scab flicked from his heart. Flung to the surface of earth in either affection or the sheer pleasure to see what can be molded of such.  I speak as any other speaks, from my throat. My tongue, its guide and my lips its companion. I walk as any other, upon my feet that bare toes for balance. I see as any other, from the interpretation of my brain.  I am no different than any other who stands upon this earth. We all carry hearts, minds, and imagination. But few I believe give themselves possession of their heart. Giving it only direction in the name of others. Following with idle eyes and lips that drool with obsession to please.  Groveling for devotion though they give none to themselves. Lingering in the shadows peering with feeble hands as they call out for d...

A Brass Heart   I reach for a pendant that hangs from my mirror. A pendant of her, a permanent photo of perfection gently placed in a small brass heart. I take it from the mirror and I open it, I carefully pinch the sides and the heart splits.  It opens to the vivid smile of what is gone. Today is the anniversary of her death, another day of grief. This heart, this photo is all I have left. As I look to it, I suppress the urge of tears. For I know she would wish me to keep going.  To grieve in the action of moving on. Of finding new memories to be created with someone else. But how does one move on from someone so close?  How does someone find another to take the place of someone you held so dear? Someone that could never be fully replaced. How do you not feel guilty as time ticks on and you hold the hand of a new love?  You know that is what they wanted, but how do you not let such thoughts sabotage the new things that come your way?  How d...

   My Execution of Love Do as you wish, this heart is a traveler of darkness. Scars have found home upon my heart like termites to rotting foundation. Day by day my heart slowly crumbles, it is nothing without you. Without us.   I am catatonic to love. Frozen in the position of melancholy. A possession of dark clouds have gathered in my mind. I wear a cloak of obsession, an obsession to drown this catastrophic wound.   My floors are covered in lust as I pounce from lips to lips. Seducing the hearts as bleak as mine. But no matter the sedation, I can hear you, feel you. My eyes are green, envious of your ease to cope; to find another.   I have shriveled to bone, to dust. Place me in your hand and I will be blown to the faintest wind. Wild images of darkness shade my thoughts. But if I had the chance to tell you of these, would you even care or would you do as you did when you left?   Walking in blankness as if nothing had meaning. It hurt, our...

A Murdered Love  I started my morning as I always have. I woke up, smashed the dismiss button on my alarm and rose from my bed. I tossed my blankets from my body and turned myself so me feet could fall freely to the ground.  I gave out a yawn of exhaustion, as I rubbed my eyes to clear my sense of early morning confusion and slight resentment of waking before the sun. I then stood off my bed and turned around to tidy its rambled mess. Making sure my bed is in order so I am not in disgust of a disheveled bed after the end of my work.  Having my bed in order gives me pride in my rest, it shows I care enough about where I lay my head. After making my bed I walked over to where my towels hang and wrapped one around my waist. I then opened my door with half opened eyes and silent thoughts.  I walked over to the bathroom, closed the door, hung my towel and started the shower. After about fifteen seconds, I jumped in the shower. While in the shower I looked thro...

Painted A Blue Heart I painted a heart today, a heart to remember you by. A blue heart, why blue? I am not exactly sure, maybe to show the sadness I have. Or to remember all the cold winter nights we shared by the fire. A bitter sweet case of love. I glazed the edges in a shallow blue, a light hue. Why, I am not sure? Maybe to remember the more delicate times we had, where we shared tears yet happiness ensued. As I drew this heart, I thought of the warmth it brought, though it be blue. But are there not flames of blue? Color is a mere abstract of feelings, often I find what others find sad, happy. That is why I painted this heart blue, at least that's what I think. After the shallow blue, I drug the far edges of the canvass in pure blackness. I created a shroud of darkness to encase the far edges of what I painted. Why? Maybe to reinforce my belief that you are still out there somewhere, living where we could not. That what is at the center of all this sorrow, can expan...

Ascending Memories  We ascended with our feet upon the ground. Gathering up our thoughts like broken sticks, placing them in our bags to tell of later. We were silent as we climbed, hand in hand, silence at heart. Wearing red to signify the blood of our fallen hearts.  Our eyes reflected of the dark, as the rain poured with misery as we coated our hearts black. Ivory keys of woeful tunes played as we tried to piece ourselves together. We ascended higher and higher, but the terrain only became worse.  Vines bared thorns as roses of translucent petals hung like fingers of relaxed limbs. A few times our flesh came torn by the prick of thorns. The roses took to our blood, and what was once translucent became red.  Once our altitude was beyond the view of earth, the clouds became thick. Dense like the waters of the ocean. The beat of our blackened hearts grew louder through the density of these dreary clouds. We clasped our hands together, as not to lose one ...

A Land of Memory  As the river seeps to the ocean I feel my soul expand to the glossing waves of summer. Crashing against the once broken shore of my heart. But now my sands vibrate with excitement, attracting the risk of the unknown.  Blossoming with arms wide open to catch the unforeseen as do shores reeling in debris. I follow with my eyes to heed to the beauty of my thoughts. Never catering fully to the echoes that call from the ever ebbing waves.  The lodge that sits at the edge of the woods once swelled with painful misery. My heart was torn from my ribs at the hand of my love. I quelled my misery in the delight of vices as I fought to forget her lips, her soul.  Our feet used to press together into these sands as we waltzed with smiles and eyes fixated to each others glistening horizons. Every flower reminded me of her beauty, of her elegance. Just as flowers sway to the touch of wind, so did her hair.  Such aroma do flowers give, but their ...