i want to turn you down like the volume
watch you fade to black
replaced with something more promising
it’s funny how the things you loved most about a person
can be the same things that make you despise them so many months later
your alluring, elusive charade isn’t enticing
superficial doesn’t even cover your lack of substance
never before had I been fooled
but i somehow don’t regret it
it’s nice to have something simple to believe in sometimes
if i wrote a list of disappointments
your name would be the title
never has falling been more charming
knowing you is like running circles in the sand
now the shore is covered in beautiful, useless patterns
and i am just waiting for the tide to wash them away
I’m glad you didn’t stop for me
but i almost hope you turn around
to see the waves rushing in
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
sometimes my words carry me away
and there is nothing left to do but fall
in a beautiful entanglement
of color
splattered on a ready canvas
undaunted by the wild array
of disastrous beauty-
chaotic portraits
reaching astronomical heights
like the constellations formed with the breath of stars
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
there is something about a door with a lock
that makes me desperate to find the key.
the mystery carries an almost euphoric presence.
it likes to surface occasionally
and tug at the corners of my heart
just enough to remind me of an insatiable thirst
that i didn't realize had lingered.
i couldn't say for sure what it is that draws me in
perhaps it's the hidden secrets
or the complex workings
maybe just the appearance-
the kind that carries a promise
or emits a sense of adventure
and if you couldn't already tell,
i'm not talking about doors anymore.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
I wonder, love, if you see
these stars that hang over me
or if you, so far away,
forget to look up?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
you call out
"god help us"
in the quietest voice,
and I hear in it a desperation to be heard.
it's the way a mother would die for her child, as if it were no choice at all.
and the same sort of love that it takes
to stand between bullets
and your sister.
it's how a husband will do anything and everything to protect his wife.
it's what matters.
it's the way it should be.
you would lie down your heart to save what it beats for.
and at the the end of the day,
at the end of time,
it will be what saves us all.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
At the end of the night,
I will bow,
In one swift motion,
As the pressure releases,
Like the beat of a butterfly’s wing
Or it’s gentle heart.
At the end of the night,
I will drift off,
In the ocean of my mind,
Asleep at last,
I free fall through space,
Like a shimmering bubble,
Formed by a child’s breath,
Sent off into the word,
Careless and free.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
Once I had a dream that drifted, scarred and sang and fell.
That echoed through the now empty cave that I refer to as my heart.
It danced through my head where it planted and began to grow.
It blossomed and lulled me into a trace.
You met me there, the blooming buds of roses, red like rubies or crimson blood.
Unlike roses, though, you lacked any thorns.
With all the passion of a storm you blew into my dreams and stole my attention and my affection.
All the corners of my mind were drunk with my affinity and captured by a vague impression of your beauty.
But all roses have thorns and I was a fool to have ignored the horned demons I clutched so tightly in my hands, the very ones I held in my heart, the ones I allowed passage into my mind.
I held the thorns with twisted bliss, the intoxicating agony that was your innermost self.
Clouded by the poison I held fast but like the delicate and masochistic rose you were, you withered in the heat.
The sun beat down and while I stood, sweating, crying, fighting for us, you fled.
You fled. You left. You ran and left me alone in the sun, drowning in the heat, with broken hands and broken heart.
My hands, callused and scorched are left with holes, holes from holding you despite your crime.
My heart is left with holes, holes from your hands which took hold of it and wrenched the life from it.
Once I had a dream that drifted, scarred and sang and fell.
A dream of us, of me and you, of our flame which ended with a word.
A word, a single word, a word which turned the flame against us to burn and scar our hands and our hearts.
A single word which you uttered with all the passion you could muster.
A single word which took the moments, the memories, the smiles.
The heat of your breath, the touch of your skin, the warmth of your smile, the fire in your eyes.
All for nothing.
Once I had a dream that drifted, scarred and sang and fell.
That dream was you.
Thank God I woke up.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
A great author once wrote
We accept the love we think we deserve.
And though the words were not my own
They stuck to me like gum beneath the chairs in my school
And I found myself reading them over and over again
Doing my best to soak in every single piece of truth
That was crashing on my head like waves
And when you told me that he really loved you
And you still believed him
You broke my heart
Because the love that you know
Is not a grain of sand on the seashore
Or a star in the heavens
Or a blade of grass in the forest
Or a snowflake in winter
It is a word that cannot be found in the dictionary
A letter from no one's alphabet
A direction that can never be travelled
A lantern that cannot be seen in the dark
You have never heard
That love is for real
That it will strike you like lightening
You will feel it in your fingertips
In your lungs
In your bones
You have never heard
That there is a man who will never leave you
Who will love you like a word
Not like the weather
You tell me that there is nothing to be said
Nothing helps
But I disagree
You don't know love
But one day you will
And that love is not temporary
It is forever.
Just wait for the the storm
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
i believe in a love like wine
the older it becomes
the more wonderful it is
the longer it lasts
the more it is craved
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
She says, “I'm too tall”
Because she thinks she is too big to be held
She says, “I hate my voice”
Because she can only hear herself in recordings
She says, “I don’t know what I'm doing”
Because she can’t see past her shortcomings
But what she doesn't know is that with her head up to my chin she is the perfect size to fall into my arms and be wrapped in an embrace bigger than her insecurities
Or that the low, velvet tone of her voice that dances from her lips could never be captured by a video
Or that her imperfections cower in the face of her all her strengths
And she doesn't know
That I do.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC