I turn away from you and begin to fall asleep,
when I feel your hand rest on the curve of my side
My skin crawls with the electricity ignited by your touch
My heart rate escalates to a speed that vibrates every cell in my being
Making me certain you can feel it in the fingertips that now sit on my hip
Goosebumps prickle every inch of my skin
I try to reach for your hand but I'm paralyzed
Paralyzed by the idea of you retreating if I move even a centimeter
My muscles become rigid as they are flooded by the adrenaline pulsing through my veins
At this point breathing is the only function I can try to control
Slow down your breathing, he'll know for sure how fast your heart is racing
Speed it up, he'll think you're actually asleep
My brain processes a million electric signals that point me towards the dead end of this makes no sense boulevard
And then the silence is broken by the softest whisper ever to reach the inner workings of my ear
"Are you awake"
The spell of paralysis that I was under is broken
I turn to face you and when our eyes meet, it's a snapshot I will forever lock away in the file marked things to hold on to
Tomorrow this will all seem like a dream,
We'll laugh and chat in front of our friends as if everything's the same
And two weeks from now when I try to put into words the electricity of this moment, it won't suffice
But right now all I want is for your lips to meet mine
And for it to make no sense
But make more sense than anything ever has
flew like warnings
in favor of
we added fuel
and blinding smoke
that rose for days
fell to cover
The moon's pale face regards the nighttime skies
As the stars pass by on their ancient quest.
Silent shadows glide 'cross the ground
From clouds that move and make no sound.
Nighttime is when her spirit will rise
To ever wander and never know rest.
Eileen was the name of the red-haired girl
Who lived in the castle near the sea.
It was the only home she'd ever known,
This ancestral fortress made of stone.
It was a simple and tranquil world,
The only place she wanted to be.
The castle was home for ages long past
For her father, his father, and beyond.
Their memory lived within the grey-stoned walls,
Their deeds were remembered in each of the halls.
The castle was safe; its walls held fast.
Yet its fate lay within a wizard's wand.
Galyn was a wizard of dark renown,
Winding his way from times of ancient yore.
Great was the power at his command;
Deep was the knowledge he kept at hand.
Few were the secrets he had not found,
As he labored at his art behind a locked door.
Standing on a tower's balcony on a grey, windy day
Eileen could feel the sea's breath on her skin.
Galyn would watch her standing there,
The wind playing and dancing with her hair.
Though for ages he walked a solitary way
The sight caused a stirring deep within.
From ancient ages he searched in shadows dark
Seeking answers in places unseen and unknown.
Yet this power was one never felt before,
Twisting his emotions and piercing him to his core.
It ignited within him a powerful spark,
A burning desire to make her his own.
Eileen never e'en thought, not once in her life
That she could hold sway over a wizard's heart.
Her youthful innocence knew naught of such a thing.
She dreamt of knights slaying dragons, or even of marrying a king.
She could not fathom Galyn wanting her for a wife
Be it through trickery, treachery, guile, or blackest art.
This is a work in progress.
you'll never see this
and i don't mind so much
your thoughts are misguided
like your hands are to my flesh
your brilliance should not be taken as arrogance
but also not as ignorance
too smart for your own good
allow yourself to not think for awhile
i'd like for you to let yourself be
alongside me would be ever more splendid
you make me feel like i haven't in awhile
wish i knew what it all meant
your smile ignited something inside
that i have no idea how to interpret
what to do with these feelings
leave them out of the game, in the dugout
Some days I feel as if I should try harder to impersonate rivers. Flow along my set path,
over the bumps and rocks and irritating tree roots, and let the current take me.
Other days I want to set my own path.
Be ignited by lightening in a forest and chew through anything barring my way.
It's hard to trust fate
when you are always told
to write your own story.
The girl with the smile.
The perfect storm.
Wonderful. Just. Wonderful.
Aren't we a shy pair? The names
you use to describe me to others are cute indeed
but I'd like them better if you used them with me.
I'm more than Lauren, your friend from school.
I'm the electric wonder who you deemed "too cool"
to pursue back in eighth grade. So you sat back like a
fool and let me get my heart broken by a boy who didn't care.
I forgive you though,
because you were there when he let me down.
And it was your hug that I'd wished had been his all along.
And back in tenth grade when another stood me up,
it was you, skinny love, who picked me up. From a
lonely cold night outside the movies. It was you,
who took me out for ice cream and it was you,
who told me he wasn't worth the trouble.
In tenth grade you deemed me an exciting beauty who
could never fall for a man like you. But all along it was
your hand I wished had been holding mine.
And my senior year when we parted ways,
and we reminisced about the days we had
you had a look on your face. Like there was something
you just had to say. But instead,
you told me you'd miss me when I was at college
and nothing more. You made me the girl with the smile
that ignited the light in your heart but you did not tell me.
You let me go. And I never let you know that I wish it had
been you in school who I called my own.
Summer after I came home from my first year away,
you said I had changed. I had purple in my hair
and the care I once had of the opinions of others was
gone. We spent weeks together, like nothing had changed.
And when I cried because I had to leave you again you
were the one,
who calmed my fears and promised to visit
once you'd moved in.
I was your perfect storm of grace and tragedy.
And it was you,
who I wanted to share every moment with
during those warm summer nights.
Sophomore year you brought me to a party. I
didn't know anyone and your friends were rude.
And when I wanted to leave and never come back it was you,
who stood up for me and told them I was perfect.
You said I was Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. And after all
the times I let the truth stay bottled up inside I finally
let it out. That kiss on the porch was not the wine, nor the
weed. It was me. It was you. It was us. It was all the times
you were there for me and all the times I'd secretly wished
you were those boys who'd let me down.
So why? Skinny Love? Why continue on this way?
No need for another heart break. Let's admit the
way we feel, my friend,
the way we've always felt.
For tenth grade me.
For senior year you.
For the times we cried together.
And hid our feelings for each other.
Come now, skinny love, tell me how you feel.
I came to you as a pilgrim,
palms turned upward,
You are a beautiful enigma,
a bonified butcher knife
taking aim at my cynic's perspective.
Your hands drum
to beats my heart misses.
My lungs forget
the in and out, in and out
we've been perfecting.
You bring me closer to divinity
than I have ever come before.
I can see you now, eyes ignited
to match my joint.
We made a promise.
Not just any promise--a pinky promise.
We swore on our weakest finger a vow we would not dare to break.
Most don't understand why we would do such a childish thing.
Intertwining fingers. What promise could that bring?
They don't know our history.
Back in time--just you and me.
A promise between us has not once been kept.
It was cause for tears and heart ache that followed as we slept.
Giving our word doesn't mean a thing between us two.
So what is left for us to do?
Let's go back to a more innocent time.
A time when rain was just gum drops and kisses meant our mother.
You always searched for the best tree to climb.
Let's go back in time when everything was pure and good.
From this time we steal a simple thing.
Something long left behind in childhood.
Tiny fingers interlocking.
Nothing about it mocking.
Twelve years later I hold my finger out to you.
No need to be told what to do.
Our fingers touched once more.
The electricity practically lifts me off the floor.
Our pinkies ignited some new energy.
Energy I've misses between you and me.
For the last time I say, "Promise?"
Twined fingers. "Promise."
This one's pretty rough. I might make adjustments at a later time.
Legend has it, he was born a dancing flame.
But he doesn't burn because he's angry.
He burns because he's hungry.
A starving artist, ignited by the truth.
Legend has it, he was born in a pool of passion.
The Gods shook with envy because they created a better man on accident.
Earth trembled when he decided to grace it with his footsteps.
He was created to never be tamed.
An invention of rebellion.
Legend has it, the Grand Canyon was a direct result of his heartbeat.
When he announced his name, the tide shrugged and ate the shores.
His smile made the flowers laugh.
He speaks, and the wind sings through the trees.
A showpiece of devotion.
Legend has it, he's disguised in a pot of ordinary.
He's just a cup of coffee or a faded pair of jeans.
A million other men are labeled with his name.
They say the wind still sometimes whispers through the trees.
He is a heart more profound than a mortal heart could ever dream to be.
The Spirit bomb, an astrological bond, one's soul is gone, drowning in some pond of self-reflections.
A fantastic plan, with a swift wave of your hand, storms spawned to creation and hide the life-giving sun, quite overwhelming for some.
A pair of enchanted paradise swans, fawn over the other to shine forth the calm-bringer, the sister and brother, from one father and mother, some sort of creator or another.
Flutter over nests of destruction, plotted taxed lands from some great nation of abduction.
Some fucking nut takes a crack and starts building some destroying station of war. A nurtured relation, branded straight from emancipation. Granted permission to dream, granted permission to score, a silent scream, and twisted avocation of means, to become a fucking conglomerate stone, stoned out of your love-drunk mind, well thought out, well wrote. You note the crazy schemes of some bloke, clouded and choked out on the spindle of passion that dwindles.
An ignited flame once enkindled, blossoms up from your windowsill.
Still spilling more silly meaning to life, quite the light we got, right?
Dishing out your thoughtless waste of despair, as some desperate stranger of danger casts shadowy scars on a scare. Emotionally teared, wearing a cloak of danger and destruction, beware.
Directions of death's stare, brings you to the wrong side of the lawn.
Tested and bested, your entire fragile being grows stronger.
A glowing peace-monger brought among us, clowning and frowning on useless sorrow, working towards a brighter tomorrow.
A distraction of impaired hollows that swallow your goals whole, life sure is taking it's toll, spitting and shitting you out on some strange and foreign shore. You'll learn to keep roaring for more knowledge of ancient wisdom that's stored in tiny glass vials, evermore. Imploring spirits, swirling in a massive, abysmal void, while seeking out another vessel and droid.
Exploiting chords of beautiful music is kissed on the faces of the missed. Best wishes!
Dished out on the paper you write another poetic vision that assists the songs of hopeful travelers abroad. Setting out on adventurous travels, that unravels marvelous mysteries and beauty, enameled on bland and barren lands.
Wishing wells and swishing swells of free-flowing rivers, amongst endless givers of calm, and grand oceans of drawn out motions, be strong.
The Spirit bomb blows off, out into the dawn of new horizons.
The Sun is rising, then gone.