The fever took her - quietly, suddenly.
One moment she was lying still,
the next her blood had been boiled and her hair was burning
so that there was a constant glow about her face.
In moments like these,
where her body and her brain were two separate entities,
she could think only of the way her skin joined
in perfect harmony
behind her ears.
Stuck once again,
I can't help but stare.
You send shivers down my spine,
like a cold october wind.
Every time we hold hands,
I still get cliche butterflies,
and every time you kiss my cheek,
you steal my breath all over again.
Do you see the way you change me?
When you're driving in the car.
Singing to your least favorite song,
just because I love it, and turned it on.
You say I give you a look,
that turns you inside out.
But baby, everything about you,
makes me want you right.now.
I know that we are young,
and vulnerable like sprouting buds,
but I don't think that it's wrong,
to believe that we're in love.
Dedicated to Sean Rogers.
Sing to me.
Even if your voice is raspy,
And you can not sing,
Love me enough to sing to me,
In the dark,
As you take my hand,
And lead me into your arms.
Sing to me your favorite song,
Or of the fears that plagued you when you were young.
I will memorize the melody,
As I listen to the vibrations,
That your vocal chords conjure up,
As I lean my head against your chest.
Let your insecurities lay at my feet,
And sing to me.
And if you can’t bring yourself to do so,
I’m willing to listen to you hum.
you told me I could tell you anything.
and from my tongue slipped chaos.
broken consonants, faulty vowels, damaged syllables.
from my heart slipped shattered feelings that cradled every word that was to be delivered to your sensitive ears.
I spoke unto you everything that was hidden.
I brought them back to life and served them to you on a platter so silver you can see my innocence fading from your eyes looking back at you as you stared in it.
and from my soul slipped trust.
and into your hands it entered.
and then I was safe.
you may not have understood.
but you listened.
and that was more than I could do for myself.
nights take passion forth
into an abyss
of hundreds of arms
swirling under the weight of
your destruction came
in moments, you fell beneath them
and growled, you were
the rabid beast
hiding in my closet
or behind my bathroom door
waiting to spring,
and you and i,
we fell for each other
like children, we fumble in the dark
like teenagers, we talk through every movement
like we've known this dance for years, years, years;
my hands, they're too small
to spread over your heart
like i want them to.
your hands, far too big
to cradle my face between them
like you meant them to.
we make it work
in the darkest of ways,
the black hole in the floor
of our bedroom
to swallow us
make a wish and hold it tight,
this time we'll try our hardest
not to try --
(sleeping at last)
i don’t want to love you
i’d rather love books
and the sea
when it rages
i’d rather love
filled with smiles
i don’t want to hide
i’d rather fly
to a far away mountain
at the top of
a blue peak
i’d rather explode
like a light—
who has met
i don’t want to love you
i don’t want
the sun to fall
i don’t want
my coffee to go cold
or my cigarettes
to wage war
on my lungs
but there’s little to do
when the universe
in it’s inevitable ways
understand that nothing is real.
search for art in all that you see (for art is present in all things).
art is everything, nothing is real. we are left to conclude that art is nothing, nothing is art, or perhaps everything is nothing-which makes art more real than nothing, because it is in fact something.
when we smoked cigarettes in the alley way during winter, our backs against the cold brick wall; well, darling, that was art.
you made poems and paintings and songs and dances, but i’d never seen anything more real (or perhaps less real) than the way your eyes looked when they were in love. and that, well that was the truest art there could ever be.
understand that your love is everything, and everything is art, but nothing is real, or art is nothing. my words will never quite be right, but your eyes in love were the rightest thing that never existed -(or existed more than anything).