just decided a problem of mine is wanting to create in every form
I want to draw and paint
and take pictures and videos
and create dances and do ******* pottery and embroider into shirts and build a garden and screen-print designs and and and
I don't have time for it all
and I'm afraid life forces people to choose one
or to narrow it down
and I will strive to create excellent things
without cutting any of it out

Even something as hypnotic and breathtaking as fire, leaves behind something as *****, grey and irrelevant as ash.

We were strangers
Who came with words,
We have a flawless storyline
And wrote our own lies.

Those ravishing words
That turned into
An ocean of aesthetic lies,
Then I drowned and can't swim.

We're now inarticulate
And we both share
The same ghost
Contradicting everything special
That we lost in a blink.

I was the moon and stars
Who swallowed his darkness,
He was the setting sun
Who have put me down,
I guess I was in love with an idea.
(J.a.t.m)

I haven't thought
about you in
awhile
how soft
you looked
within your
bed, your
hands a
fading shade
of
blue

I don't want
to abandon
you,
the thought
of you,
the ghost of
you that sleeps
in my bed
at night
with me

there's a reason
I'm so stoic now,
so somber now,
my chin up while I'm
quiet now

There's nothing I can
think to say
since you lie
in a bed of
white and
next thing
I know
you were
ashes being
sprinkled on
Reno

I haven't thought
about you in
awhile, it's
fading shades
of blue

Usually I'd be
brokenhearted, and,
believe me,
I was-
knowing that we
can't be together
and that maybe,
maybe you don't even
love me and maybe
never will-

but instead,
I'm happy.
I'm so ******* thrilled.
I am so in love with you that
even unreturned,
my heart's in bliss

Passion
is capable
in me-
and that in this
earth,
on this plane,
somewhere where I
was ****** into
at birth,
you exist.

God,
you exist and
I'm able to
love
you.

...
You're cupping embers
    in antique palms
    that were meant
    to harvest moonlight.

Raindrops ghost over earth's skin
   nebula clouds map universal eyes,
   and you're just a masterpiece
   who is best friends with time.

Don't let those pianos play you,
   serenade and masquerade you
    because we all seem to
    fall in love with the right music,
    and all the wrong notes.

That friend lit a fire in your room,
   seven embers destroying
    unfamiliar wallpaper.
    You burnt your dream catcher,
     to cinders and charcoal;
     Now you pray for sunlight,
     all you've got is a lonely candle's flame.

But from the nightmares and windowsill,
   moonlight slipped through
         and in your palms
         you held
         my words.

Fire doesn't last forever, Leonie.
...