I speak not of peaches, chapstick, sunrises or fallen nights.
(K)nights fought over love never found.
A(r)mor rusted over from her tears,
He always like to jump through puddles, watching the wake.
sometimes it woke his fears.
Monsters under the bed.
If only he could cross the room he’d be
safe (-ly
locked away,
he lost the keys to
the him he used to be.)
I speak not of burning trees or cherry seeds ( planted down the lane)
I've surrendered to the (k)night
but with one last thought,
I know I can win the fight.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
Bicycles and icicles remind me of you.
Cold winter nights
feel warm,
just with the thought of
You.
You send my mind
round and round,
while you peddle to find solid ground.
Bicycles and icicles don't go well together,
neither do you or me.
But that wont keep me from thinking of you.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
tonight i know it all has to being with the end
we'll start again
from the beginning where it doesn't hold us,
and it hasn't molded us into something we're not.
our story's twisted, wrinkled,
flipped, and folded
its hard to hold our mistakes on the paper.
so lest just let it spill of the pages, back to the ages they belong.
We'll start again
from the beginning where it doesn't hold us,
and it hasn't molded us into something we're not.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
the word floods my mouth as a mix of hurt and anger.
i try to reverse it, but its too hard to swallow.
i stand on my head, hoping that the word might just slip out,
but the ones i've reserved for worthier people are starting to shake loose.
i eat spoonfuls of kind thoughts, but they get all tied up in knots.
**** y
o
u
i can breathe again.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC
I can only spend do much time trying to see the world through your eyes.
These words,
twist from her shallow breath around her fingers.
The mark the world left on her,
she tries to recreate over and over again.
We posses little power in this world, but what we do, is strong.
She holds he hands out to the world wearing her scars,
cupping the next moment like it’s her next breath.
She does this out of necessity.
Her heart beat fills the silence.
She drains the gold from the sky with quiet clicks.
She catches lost words off of the wind, and captures them through her own.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
My fingers
stopped spilling
the words my mind
was spinning because of you.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
Our Last.
We promised,
Shook hands,
"we are done".
But with one more wish:
A last kiss.
In this moment,
the one we both knew was wrong,
something felt right.
*Was is the acceptance of the end,
or the awakening of something different,
softer?*
In that one moment,
the kiss,
I was swept off my feet,
with some kind of reassurance.
*Was it recognizing the end,
or finding the whole reason it started?*
We danced,
quietly,
in a way we never had.
There was some sort of control.
I could spend thousands of words,
trying to figure the feeling.
But i know that to you,
The kiss,
was The end.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
Morning dew falls,
tears from the stars.
The coyotes call still echos.
The moment i tried to capture ,
the night before,
stained slanted on old paper,
is smeared.
Its a reminder from the night that some things should be left alone.
Secrets of the night.
The morning still feels like night.
[sometimes its too hard to decipher between wrong and right.]
When i close my eyes i cant tell the difference.
What is it about sight that feels the need to divide two things that are much the same into things so vain?
[how can two things feel the same but be different?]
Nothing changes between the dark and light.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
Written with my dearest Dane Johnson
This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky?
We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define.
Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry.
I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye.
My, oh my, please don't cry.
Who's really winning when everyone's sinning?
Yet the world keeps on spinning to our wrecked hearts.
I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned.
As we undress, we softly caress our scars.
We avoid the pain by closing our eyes,
but it's something we both can't stop feeling.
And yet we continue invariably denying.
And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise.
The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had.
Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes.
But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain.
Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more.
We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in.
And now my door opens to a new light.
Silence is golden, but what was once sliver could become silver, oh so easily.
However lighthearted pennies are,
the trouble is not worth the pain.
She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC