in a perplexing, infinite universe
ridden with countless planets uninhabited
and others flourishing with unknown life
within it, remains galaxies left unreachable and unexplored
floating on a boundless sea of black
littered with scatters of scintillating stars
acting as buoys to latch on to when off course amidst a spacewalk adventure
and landmarks to identify direction when lost in the vast array of emptiness

yet, here you are
shining as brilliantly as the celestial bodies that stretch across the canvas of night
and I am lucky enough to be able to latch onto you when I am astray in my own small town
I don't need to sail across an endless space ocean in a nautical journey in search of you
your beams are close enough for me to feel your nourishing warmth at all times
so when you greet me with your exhilarating embrace
we produce a light that shines intensely enough for the whole universe to see
so as the aliens navigate through the currents of deep space
they admire passion that burns brighter than anything of its kind
as they paddle in seamless synchronization
in the direction of our path, to find where we are
small town, planet earth
and they'll settle in here, to what they see as a place that must be incredible
because of you
the compass of the universe
the love of my life

my father left on a Thursday
and we buried him on a Sunday
i'd never witnessed an earth so dull
the colors didn't explode and combust
the music didn't serenade and echo
no,
the clouds just poured and poured and poured again
mother said the angels were crying because they didn't want him this soon
their tears fell through the crevasses of a black sky
and my life became a silent film
my eyes could only see tones of grey
and as i removed my small hand from an oversized coat that belonged to him
i held onto the cherry wood of a coffin
i looked into it to see the black and white reflection of a small boy whose sadness could not be defined

and a decade later on Sunday the 8th of the bitter cold month of February
i wake up with colorless vision
and become deaf for the day
i revisit your grave
and the other mourners look on at me
a little child transformed once again
weeping in the warmth of a jacket that only seems to grow larger with time
and the angels can't help but to cry again
their pain reverberates throughout the field of death that appears to have no definite end
i peer over the gray hill of gray tombstones
and my eyes glaze over with a sheet of liquid melancholy
because i realize everyone has their own February the 8th

I've grown blind to sensation
and deaf to the hums of my walk
its all the same yet again
one great big pile of gray sloshy snow
suspended under an equally flavorless sky
whose clouds pour drips of cool touch onto me
and as they land and stream along the contours and creases of my face
they soak up with my hurt
and that feeling is the only thing that keeps me thinking im still here,
still alive
so please sky, let it rain
let it shower away all of my pain
let it pump my blood to sizzle against the icicles that hang beneath the gutters of my veins
to melt away the current solid stream of red
so i can defrost back into my old self
as steam rises from my now beating heart
revealing gears that rotate freely again once their bolts are no longer consumed in deep frost
the color rushes back into my skin
and the flushed pale face suddenly evolves into crimson cheeks which hold an obnoxiously wide smile
with a voice that speaks loud like a lion with purpose
and sings harmonious with the songs of my youth
...
the day i am resurrected
is the day i will love you like i intend
so tell me, please reveal your secret
where can I melt?

my brush touches on canvas
with each whipping flick, a new stroke around the curvature of your smile
i paint in shades of black, white, and gray
yet nothing gives off more color than the radiance of your joy

and nothing makes me prouder to be alive
than the moment I've made you split the creases of your cherry blossom lips
and reveal teeth as white as the clouds where you must originally be from

high up above this area of space plagued by the formulaic symmetry between conformists
those who greet the sun in the morning with the intention just to get by
no my love, you wake each sunrise with a far greater purpose
and i wake to share a piece of it with you
so we can smile together
and feel high enough to be perched on a crescent moon
as I hold you close, and point out the brilliant star you descended from

in the coming months the frost will pass
leaving green blades visible and new formed dirt paths
daisies and orchids will rise beneath heaven's light
but you, the wallflower, will wilt like its still winter, crippled in dismal fright
the fear of remaining alone
the fear of not knowing when you will become like the proud flowers that stand vibrant and grown
but as spring turns to summer and the clouds disappear
the wind will pick up, and send another wallflower's pedals through the air
so poor wallflower, do not fret
your roots have the strength of 1000 roses
the kind of beauty that could be carved into statuette  
you will survive when there is no rain
because you understand loneliness and unprecedented pain
so stay calm, oh wavering friend
water will still seep through your timid veins
and your brilliance will shine, even if its tangled in your inhibited chains

leaping cliff to earth
the woeful job of pavement
catching troubled souls

the numb can't fall in love with another
only with the thought of being in it
they'll convince themselves they're thawed
until depression outruns denial
when they grow angry at themselves for being unable to feel
then they'll return with slumped shoulders to their cavern of ice
where their tears freeze along with their hope
to wait until they can lie to themselves again
taking one foot out into the sun
and leaving the other in the snow

gazing out at the waves as they flow
beneath the sky that reflects its hue
not a cloud in the sky
the world painted in deep blue
from figure to ground the quintessence of beauty
the purest form of tranquility
and in this moment i feel immortal
like i can flow just as easy with the waves
so you can see my face when you look up at the sky on a day at the beach
i let go
and i greet the floor of sand in peace
final words bubbles, that only the ocean can repeat

gravity keeps me planted next to you
i love gravity

feeling claustrophobic in isolation,
and like the lone survivor in crowds,
you can't sleep naturally at night,
you need medication to drown out your thoughts that bring sorrowful sounds.

in your ears ring those melodies of realism,
that sing solely of failure and defeat,
these songs written with melancholy chords,
that only seem to loop and repeat.

the process so dehumanizing,
you can't progress through the morbid cycle anymore,
so you press a barrel to the roof of your mouth, as stress neatly lines up and files out the door.

cold metal had never tasted so sweet,
and in these final moments, part of your cement core splits,
rainwater finally leaks in and your thirst is quenched as it fills your lonely heart, the desolate desert ditch.
feeling something real for the first time since who knows when,
only at this time, the moment of your end.

however, in your death your depression becomes recycled,
and now the numbing blanket will be passed to another,
until the day someone strong enough possesses it,
so it can be burned above amber flames, resting in ash along with its true color,
*black.

lay numb in the snow
gazing at your future home
waiting for release

you inhale more smoke
taking more small steps to death
to feel more alive

i peer out from my bedroom
to see the same tree standing alone
covered in moss, wilted branches, no leaves
this tree is dying
but this tree cannot voice its pain
this tree is deeply rooted in the ground, knotted with fungus eating it away
nature has destroyed both of us
but this tree cannot chop itself down
so i shall hang from the best branch left
that way someone will have to chop us both to the ground
and we'll have worked together to end the other's hurt
its rotting wood can be salvaged into a coffin
and we can rest beneath the soil where nature cannot get us

I can write well again,
Because I can feel it again.
It's been an awkward few months away from you,
I wasn't sure how to act when you were gone,
I interrupted our relationship with a psychologist and something called a positive outlook.
But now that I'm back looking up at the light rather down at the darkness,
I can tell you its a much quicker fall down than it is the long climb back up.
Welcome back depression.

your soul rested on mine like first frost
join me in this blissful sin
it must be crime for me to hold an actual grin
lay in this icicle hammock above frigid clouds
your soul phosphorescent
shining through my hollow cove like the brightness of first snowfall
who knew winter could be so lonely
the sun is right there but it does not warm me
it echoes my call for you but refuses to respond
the stars only hum your name
reminding me that with the spring our love has melted like the snow
but new flowers will not bud, although everyone has promised that with time they will grow
you are my only flower
even when you are shrouded in ice
i love your cold touch
it ripples through my body
illuminating cozy christmas light

all was silent as they sat,
taking in the ocean as it flowed like quill with ink.
each stroke so masterful, yet so dark,
so deep.
the open water stretched for miles to come,
"but, what do we do now?" she says
"we enjoy it.
until it's done."
and the bomb fire rained over head,
war taking souls with each stroke of death, all so dark,
so deep.

i am lost,
in the most dense of forests,
deepest of oceans,
and the most opaque of fogs.
search for me,
and you will become lost yourself.
disappearing through leaves,
drowning beneath the current,
evaporating into the air.
yet,
it will be as if i never went,
i was never found.

The snowflakes have fallen on my cheek,
The time of year when the sun goes to sleep,
All is joyful,
All is white,
Except for the one who is alone,
Beneath the Christmas light.

Humming soft carols under the desolate tree,
Drinking cocoa by myself,
Walks through the town,
With no one else.

Winter has come,
And taken away,
All of the bliss in my days.

I see people hand in hand,
Mittens and jackets through the snowy wonderland,
It makes me see how solitary
I really am,
It makes me wonder,
What was God’s plan?

I live in a place where the sky never gets very dark at night.
The city lights illuminate,
And they contrast with the deep black,
Creating the faint purple hue I always see before I sleep.
And I think to myself,
You and me, we made the color purple.
I, the mysterious, but misunderstood night.
And you, lighting me up with your joy, passion, and wit.
A bulb so full it could protect the dark from itself for eternity.
You embraced the dark,
And turned it into something far more than the shades of charcoal, ash, and ink.
But now the city light is gone,
And the sky is dim enough to see the stars that are my memories of you.
Constellations bursting from the frame of night,
Aligning to form the *** we made our favorite mac n cheese in,
And the obnoxious belt you bought me for my birthday that I still wear.
They stretch across the canvas of sheet-black,
And I think to myself,
Can the others see them too?
The stars for what they really are?
Because when the sky becomes black again,
All the stars are visible,
And I recall why I first cherished them.

If you could see me now,
guarded in conviction
and hidden along my own invisible trail
you would know all the immeasurable times your name rings like a melody through my mind
and your smile splattered on canvas in my thoughts

the cold days I burrow myself in bed and stare at the ceiling…
there is no nothingness more horrible than space without you
and no nothingness more pleasant than the comfortable silence as I’m along your side

If you could see me now,
I would be weeping at an unmarked tombstone
recalling fateful memories that never occurred
and with you, making the ones that were yet to happen

If you could see me now,
I’d hold you tight, fragile glass against my chest
and your soothing warmth would never escape my grasp again

If you could see me now,**
my eyes would be matched with that of yours
and I’d never look elsewhere again