a bird slid into the wind's
bright paths, awoke
the sound of morning, the
only elegant sound. i sprinkled you
you with the roots of the rain and
with a song sweetened by
sunlight and although you were stunted
and your blue-blossom wings were broken,
and the very earth swam in dark
floods of tears, that little piece of
love was a kingdom as reachable
as your hand touching mine.

Look in the mirror
and smile a bit more
She's my love!
Look into my eyes,
you'll trace a grinning face
She's my dream!
Feel me inside,
there I'm looking for your love
Listen to my heart,
it's breathing your name

Your face is lovelier
than the moon
Your eyes are more beautiful
than the stars
I won't gaze at the moon
when you look at me
I won't count the stars
if your eyes beckon to me

Let's walk by the lake
and lose ourselves in romance,
Let's share our thoughts
and leave behind our loneliness,
Let our souls find a place
that's full of love and peace!

My memories have left me, and breath will soon,
Because you left me alone, this afternoon.
I asked the evening sun, I asked the full moon—
They won’t give me light; the dark comes soon!

Maybe I won’t have a next morning;
This feels to me like my last day.
Do you have some words you’d like to say,
Before I become a fading balloon?

I have walked in the woods, by nature,
I have sipped all love, like a green lover.
I won’t dream of doing anything anymore,
But swimming in a blue lagoon!

Feeling
Everything.
Always
Running.
Forever
Unsure.
Life.

she casts her pencil like a wand as magic soaks into the page her flannel cascades around her work, shielding it from curious eyes she tilts her head to listen to the lecture, but her heart is elsewhere running through castles and stumbling through candle lit streets colors tangle to mirror the expanse of her dreams she shares her soul with every meticulous stroke each face blessed by her style but never the same when she designs she never aims for perfection for she knows perfect is just a fancy way of saying flawed she erases and redraws as if her art could never satisfy her desires it can always be better but it is never good enough if only she knew I meant it when I told her I loved her drawing her art speaks to me like Mona Lisa never could

i’m broken
the way every writer is
broken and the words fall
out of the cracks.