I never felt more alone
Than when I was with you.
You gave me tunnel vision,
Broken eyes and a broken mind
That no amount of liquor therapy
Can ever cure.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
There are mountains
with my inscriptions,
winds with my whispers,
waves with my past
reflected in their depths.
They are all you;
of you, for you;
an entire planet
that had once been
untarnished,
now covered with
inescapable meaning.
How will I ever forget you?
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Your legs are an uprooted tree, longing for the taste of soil.
The water won’t flow in an ocean filled with stars, the spaces between them
dark like ink on paper, lines drawn through a multitude of times,
too many words occupying the same space so that nothing exists
but a verbose blackness. *Your hands are wisps of smoke,
edgeless clouds that coil around me and dampen my bare skin.*
The current is cut by the planets, interrupted by the nebulae,
pushed by the galaxies and surrounded on all sides, at some point,
by land: the ambit of the observable universe.
Your body
sinks;
the universe ripples
and falls,
forming around you;
the heart in your chest
gently pushes,
gently pulls,
shifting the planets and stars
that envelop you.
Your toes burrow into the sand,
your arms creep through the skies,
and all at once I see that
everything is beautiful.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
If only you could see yourself the way I see you;
the air would taste bitter, every motion that
didn’t emanate a passion for you would feel
forced and every moment would be spent
on unfulfilled wishes for your attention.
The way you walk intoxicates me,
your feet moving as if you were
oblivious to your own beauty.
There’s an innocence to you
that I want to burn away;
I want to kiss that smile
until it has meaning, to
hold that body until it
realizes what it can
do. Your curves
are equations
that I plot
in my
mind, your
eyes are dreams
I’ve held on to for
years. Your touch is
locked away under the
oldest memory I have,
a vault that I visit
when I need to
remember that
there is good
in this world;
that you are still
here, not for
me, but here
nonetheless.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 9:18 PM UTC
we sleep
with the sunrise,
tightly woven
into the shadows
like a
coarse
fabric,
our hands
the clumsy stitches
that hold us together.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:23 AM UTC