Note to Beloved and other poems

by Samantha Seto


Note to Beloved


My note travels across the room, past mobs of people,

it reaches his hands, before he slips it into trash,

My face flushes purple, anger rages, heart pounds.


In our timed and untimed arrivals,

pulleys to the elevator ascend.

Casually late, mail travels over double doors,

long-distance calls at airport.


Room dealt black and red deck of cards,

cheap perfume, left messages in parlors, postcard view.

Secrets packages turn to ash and canopies of dust,

meant for those far away.


Luggage tags, passports, travel haze.

Airplanes depart, passengers run to board plane,

shuttle to hidden magic at entrance.


Lines of travelers, past crowds of colorless blur,

angled mirrors, static of an old radio.

Crossword puzzles, smell of airborne sickness,

left waiting for him at gate 64.


He stares at me, tears flood my eyes,

Overwhelmed at the moment, peppermint scent.

Voice clings in bitterness to my throat,

search for the words to release.



The Last of Us


So many decades have passed.

We grew apart between love into hate and sad letters.


Phone calls impossible for my paper flowers,

your face vanishes into crowds, escape inside our song.


I breathe into your lungs like the soprano in the opera,

my ghost will inhabit your soul.


The ground weighs beneath my feet in white hospital linen,

my headache burns past nightfall.


If our collective CPR stopped, lost charge,

our last breath would synchronize into one.


Despite every passing second alive

for all who breathed us in, a pair of doves.


Each set of lungs, colorful balloons, warm kisses,

they throw us into air and I watch you rise like rain



Eyelids of Pure Ice


Gray moonlight filters

through cracked windows.

It brushes purple wind

against my dry eyelids.


Buried in the thickness of my jacket,

flurries of snowflakes tangle with hair,

frost burns my face, numbs my eyelids,

memory never hesitates to leave me alone.


Degrade myself, restrain screams,

until end of the tunnel doesn’t exist.

Clouds haze promise in

decayed leaves and white blanket.


I dip my feet into icy lake,

waltz with snowflurries

as evil silently whispers,

eyelids block violet cloudborne nocturne.


My heart pounds

at long wasted memory.

Haunts me, acrobats weave webs,

tears pour out of my eyelids.

Erase indigo memory.




Samantha Seto is a writer. She has been published in various anthologies including CeremonyThe Screech Owl, Overpass Books, Blue HourSoul FountainYgdrasil, and Black Magnolias Journal. Since everyone inspires her in some way, she always takes to heart every word. Samantha writes lots of poetry and aspires to take beautiful photography. One day, she hopes to write a novel or chapbook. Samantha studies creative writing. She is a third prize poet of the Whispering Prairie Press.

3 poems samantha seto_Painting Neri Falconi detail from CANARIO

Painting: Neri Falconi – detail from CANARIO


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s