#8

As I stand outside under the crisp fall air it fills me 

with a 

longing and regret for things

I don't know and people

I can't see;

the moon so large it casts a perfect

round shadow

(let your beautiful shadow engulf me)

More commonly I lie in my room,

the air so stuffy it suffocates me

with a longing and regret for things

I don't know and people 

I can't see;

the glow in the dark stars shining 

down 

(trace indigo across my face)

Shout at the sea with more of a beautiful ramble 

than anything else

and don't let the fisherman come home without a 

touch of potpori because everybody knows that

if you're not part of the problem,

maybe you're my solution.

Play a symphony in my love.

Self-Induced Therapy

I want to scream at the computer how you're not just 25 words, not just some sentences on a sheet of paper, not just a face in the crowd, or a grave stone that will ultimately get weathered away and worn down so nobody can even see your name anymore. Nobody will ever know who you were or how amazing you were, HOW DARE THEY MAKE YOU 25 WORDS. Please, somebody tell me how this is fair. Only the good die, why not somebody else? Why not an evil, dark, person who can't love? Why not somebody who lives their life for their own benefit? Why?

Sing to me a ballad of tears, weave me a sweater of sorrow,
paint yourself into a rainbow and cover me
in colors so that maybe
I can pretend to smile and laugh
5 months is the hardest part because
people start to forget,
memories start to change,
people start to forget
don't let me forget.

Existed

I can google your name
and it's like you never even existed.
"First 25 of 166 words" is all it says in the place I used to visit everyday.

It's like you never existed.

I can look at a photograph of you dancing in the ocean
and it's like you never even existed.
The edges are torn and yellowed, fingerprint-scared, and forgotten.

It's like you never existed.

I can look into my mind and hear your voice and smell your house and taste your soups,
but I can't touch your face,
It's like you never even existed;
my mind is playing games with my heart
because you always, always,
always
existed.

#7

Free me like the strong ocean tides
breaking through
the levees of New Orleans
and
Free me like a love song
breaking through
the chains of My Heart
and
Free me like the artist's pen
breaking through
the walls that flat canvas impose.

love letter.

He said,
(you're) a moon rock in my asteroid field, stardust inside my wand.
I said,
listen here, wave-breaker. I'm not amazing as moon rock or fragile as a speck of dust but thanks for (the) compliment I guess.
I'm not either of those things and that's just because, if I could be anything, I would be coal and if I had to name a million reasons why, YOU would be (best) at the top.

If I could be any(thing), I'd want to be your coal.

I'm not asking for much
but a couple of lumps and bumps upon the surface and some powder
on my surface that sticks; I want to taint your hands with black. I want it to
seep
under your fingernails and I want to
bury
my way into the caverns of your heart.
To make myself a home in there is all I seek; to
just
curl
up there and stay the night or two or three, or maybe
seventeen
because (that's) one of my favorite numbers.
But he already knew that by now.

I wouldn't hurt you if you
let me
have a little
place, a little corner of your
universe
to myself. I can sit quietly if that is what
you
please, I'll cry with
you (ever)ryday
if that's what
you
need, and I'll always be there because somebody up there knows
you're all I see.

It will take a little bit, but I think that after a while,
maybe,
possibly,
after
twenty-one
or
so
days,
I would reemerge from the depths of your
soul
to find that all that's (happened)
is that I appear
no different
to the rest of the world than I ever was before.
Still just a lump of grimy old coal off (to) go
soil your clothing
again whenever you get close, so
god forbid it. don't talk.

In the one moment where he pushes my hair from my eyes
and looks at me like I'm the freaking reason the Earth is still in
orbit,
there's something else in his eyes that tells (me) he sees what everybody else struggles to
glimpse.
"You're a diamond pulled from moon rock, the reason my stardust exists(,)" his lips whisper to mine.






So take Me into your unIverse, take me and never let me go; I've searCHed waited too long for flowers to grow Around my feet. Intertwine your supernova arms around mine and for thE first time I don't care if I don't shine to anybody else here in the whole fucking worLd.

#6

I sit beside my window with the

door to my heart opened up just enough to feel

the cool night air tangle my hair and the crickets

weave symphonies in my veins.

Well the rain splashes on the porch outside

and it mixes with imaginary footsteps of one very real person.

As he walks across the grey pavement he thinks he's just walking

but really he's dancing.

He talks and all I see is a canvas of color erupting from

a place deep inside his soul, but he just thinks he's speaking.

He's

taking what was grey and blue and turning it to glitter.

All that glitters may not ever be gold, oh I know.

They all tell me that I'm being stupid and I'm being silly

and once again I am going to rip my pants in two searching the

ground for an answer.

They tell me to lock up and throw away the key because

this boy is danger.

I won't.

(I don't think)

Lately my head, my heart, and my body have all become

separate entities; my head saying stop, my heart saying go, and my

body just half between the ground and the stratosphere.

I'm okay with that.

I've got him.

I can't lose him.

they didn't say it was going to be easy, but they said it would be worth it so hold me in your arms for a little while longer and whisper to me the things I already know, kiss me sweet and kiss me slow, he's taken my heart and now he's stealing the show.