Describe it to me; that perfect moment, when the sun peeked out of the horizon and you were standing there, up on the hill, waiting for her to emmerge.

Describe it to me; that dazzling day, when you held on to the very end of your sanity, rocking it in to the burial ground you had been digging for years.

Describe it to me; that cold winter day when the river was full and the tide strong, and you decide it was a good day for a swim.

Describe it to me; that quite evening, right after the sun set you sat through, you saw a cluster of fireflies and they glowed like the world was a good place.

Describe it to me; that fatal day when you went out to your garden and the flowers didn’t look pretty anymore so you took the gasoline and a match, and watched the inferno swallow your lives work.

Describe it to me; that hectic weekend when you fell in love twice in two days and you couldn’t believe your heart was big enough to accommodate such strong emotions. You felt dizzy and nauseated but also suspended far away from gravity like a rollercoaster ride on the moon.

Describe it to me; that never ending month where your only companies were the blanket you loved and the music that stacked your phone. You felt lost as if all roads were interminable maize’s that you were tired of going in circles in.

Describe it to me; that quite night, you first tasted the lips of a cigarette and you held it between your own squeezing ever so gently. You sighed sensing the choice in your hands, whether or not you decided to die from this magnificent sin were yours and yours alone and you smiled crookedly as the match found its peak.

Describe it to me; that well played afternoon where you were only twelve and you were with her, your first love even before you were acquainted with the very concept of love and she told you to close your eyes. You felt it, that first pressure against your lips and you never remembered why your eyes stayed close but you assume it was to preserve that instant for eternity.

Describe it to me; that wet morning as you stood away from the moderately assembled crowed and you watched as they slowly descended your heart in a casket with her still holding it and you could never forgot the deafening silence that followed the crash of sand atop her as if it was the instant you went deaf to the world. Tears never left your eyes because there was nothing left to cry for.


Describe it all to me as if I was never there to witness it.

A word,
Packed with power,
Rests on my barren flesh,
It slashes, 
With no warning,
It burns,
Hotter than fire,
And I wonder what I ever did,
Except become a mistake you never wanted,
Holding your dreams captive,
In the shell of my heart,
Covered with ruin,
Of this deteriorating self,
Yet here I am,
An embodiment of it,
Of the sin you would not admit to,
A mistake you would never kneel for,
Yet here I am,
A constant reminder of what you could have had,
You would not resent me,
You never really could,
But your heart did,
It kept secretes in its casing,
Of expressions never spoken,
Except when the anger reaches its peak,
And it flows like a thunderous volcano, 
Burning my soul to ashes,
So when I’m in my bed,
I sleep like the dead,
Not from exhaustion,
But of great lose, a lose that took the very essence of me,
I sleep like the dead,
For I am soon to be.

We had a color you and I.
You were a tantalizing white, vibrant yet subtle. You had the power to magnify everything because of that silent manifestation you comprise when a drop of any other shade was splattered on you, making it incredibly vivid. You were what poets used as muse for there was nothing purer than the flawless white of that glorious spirit yet you were neither dumbfounded nor disappointed by it.


I was a disaster-prone black, ill-fated yet beautiful. I made the light seem brighter, more picturesque; a comparison for better accomplishment. I came out at night to walk the terrors of the hours of darkness, untouched because of this gloomy soul. I was what the holly book prohibits to touch, to indulge all sensations because to drink from me was to imbibe a gallon of sin.


Sadly, beauty and unpleasant have a curious way of finding each other. I don’t remember which of us found the other first; if it was I who saw you shine from miles away or if it was you who found me huddled in a corner.


We were gods you and I. we created a love that transversed worlds. We shamed Orpheus and Eurydice. We disgraced Torin and Keelycael. There was nothing more powerful than the passion we twisted and at the same time nothing was more potent. We came from different places, you from the havens and I from the shallow depths of hell; and everything we made became a freak of nature.   


 We created the color gray.


We created the color gray from our undefeated essences. We made an unremarkable and unloved color from our insurmountable selves for the reason that we were too prideful to give up each other and at the same time ourselves. We made an abhorred thing because we were never meant for each other.


I realized when I saw you walk away, that last dreadful night, the white in you was somewhat fazed and I looked in the mirror that same night to see the darkness in me leaking. There was a little bit of gray in both of us. That was when I realized we stole pieces of each other.


Yes, my love, we made a color gray.

I rolled the hurb on a piece of delicately cut paper,  perfectly rectangular with perfect width and perfect height,  so it'd make an equally perfect bed to this delicacy I was about to put in it. It was a friend, you see, this conjuring of a plant. It let me indulge in it's sweet essence while I burned it to ashes.  It let me forget all my troubles as i pander to all it provided, still knowing it died while doing so.

Enough. Enough about the intimacy we shared. I'm losing momentum on my story.

So here I was sitting on my bedroom floor,  feeling the subtle cold of the ground beneath me,  hands crafting this masterpiece between my fingers.  Papers flawlessly curled on top of each other made a graceful cylinder with a not so graceful hat on top. I held this magnum opus above my head so I could better yet inspect it. It took me an exact 25 minutes to get where I was, all steps combined to place me in this exact moment,  in this exact time with a friend no lower than a lover.  I put the end of it between my lips and squeezed ever so gently as if to reaffirm it's existence.  I smiled a half crooked smile thinking of how I narrated each moment in my head before placing it on my half finished note book.  I picked the match up (yes a match and not a lighter,  I am old fashioned that way) from the floor where I had placed it before all processes began. It only took one  try of experienced fingers to set the small stick ablaze and traveling to the tip of my art work.  It caught fire. It was a redish-brown.   The fire was extinguished as it fell from between my fingers. 

A breath.

Another deep breath.

Peace.

I felt the smoke move through my mouth and down my throat or up to my head ( honestly, I have no idea how it does what it does)  yet it traveled, traveled every where. I ****** and blew in uncounted intervals until my work was nothing but a dark splotch of ash between my fingers. I thought of blowing it away or cleaning it with a shirt I saw laying around but decided against it.  It felt wrong somehow,  as if I was degrading the level of familiarity we just shared. So instead I rubbed it between my fingers until it no longer existed.

This felt weirdly like all the relationships i've had.

Formed, challenged, completed. Yet a smudge is left.

Time is a mysterious thing. One we think too little or too much about as if it was either an extraneous concept or a recognizable one but never simply an acquaintance. We fear to gaze in to its dark eyes for fear of what we’ll see in its untamed structure. Perhaps we fear the absolute freedoms of it in how all its courses are never underlined by incongruous moments such as once that hunt our very existence. Or maybe we’re jealous of how youthful it stays while we slowly deteriorate to our graves as it watches with indifference.


I wish to give time a gender so it fulfils all my assumptions of it. Perhaps it’s a women, gentle and eloquent; with a heart that grounds the most feral of things. Her touch is knowledge and wisdom but also all things unknown. She is sculpted like the goddess praised while her love burns oceans from existence yet she watches alone from a distance quite unreachable. Lonely everlasting. Nonetheless her soul is cruel and unforgiving; her betrayal unexpected. Her expectations to high that even the most eligible of men would not dare attempt such a futile conquest for to even try would be to fail. However her compulsion is too powerful to disregard so no man sits ideal.


Perhaps it’s a man with a will that is ironclad. His grips too powerful for even the greatest of empires to resist so all chose to bend for fear of breaking. He rules like he makes love, with intensity that shatters all the women underneath him but they still come back for more for his touch, his magic stroke. Non who have been touched by him have ever resisted or those who have were swallowed by the tide that was his fury. Yet his heart is gold and he cares more than he expects as his gifts last eternity and from the sweetness of it,  just a moment.

I Climbed a mountain, 
I Stood by the clif,
My cloth fell off of me without hesitation,
The world was under my feet and for a moment there,  I was it's goddess
I Waited for the breeze to reach me,
And raised my hands over my head
Stretching them as if giving the universe a hug
Breathing everything in
I Felt my soul excite
I Closed my eyes and sensed with all my other organs
'Don't fear the wind,' something in me said.
'Let it push you to the edge,  to the very edge'
My favorite music was playing in my head and I screamed it out my lips. 
"I got my red dress on tonight
Dancing in the dark, in the pale moonlight
Done my hair up real big, beauty queen style
High heels off, I'm feelin' alive"
And I felt alive
My heart exploded
my head contemplated the possibility of Lana doing the same thing as she wrote this song,
And I loved her for it.
It really was a beautiful summer time sadness.

When I say I want to touch you,  I don't mean the physical entity you're disguised as.
I want to touch the heart that beats the love out of you and in to me.
I want to touch the soul that is as broken and heavy as a cloudy sky.
I want to touch your sadness,  where the real you started forming.
I want to touch your mind so I can finally find the secretes to your thoughts.
I want to touch the rare moments when you finally laughed a heart filled laugh.
I want to touch your sight to understand how you explained all the books you tell me about.
I want to touch your blood so I can feel where all that poetry comes from.
I want to touch the essence of who you are so I can make us in to one person.

I just really want to touch you.

Memories exceed the bounds I have made,
They torment the leisure of my head;
It's the fright that occupies,
The dread that ignites,
And all for a peace that can't be held,
Or a love that can't be gained;
Hope depletes in a given time,
When the dread is full to the brim,
No matter how well we seem,
There is always a limit to the dream;
Of these fragment or the chasm.
And of moments I fantasize,
Where the white and bright meadow,
Fill the holes in my shadow,
Of the torment i've created,
From all thoughts palpated,
Yet I wish in the end,
I rest on golden sand,
And it swallows me up,
While furns decorate it's peak,
Because then shall it be,
The instant I am free.

‘Death is a beautiful thing. Death is a horrible thing.’ I thought as I lay there, the steak knife still gripped in my right hand. I was wet from the blood that escaped my veins, engulfing me like a mothers caress. Why was it hot? How could it be hot emanating from a cold heart? It was a revelation, a strange revelation. “Ice is your heart,” they said. “Stone is your heart.” They said. How wrong they were. The gashes I made from finger to forearm were now a dull throb, the burning had subsided. Peace was coming to take me. A peace like I’ve never felt before. A true rest. I laughed. Blood spurted out of the wide wound. Warm blood. How beautiful it was, the crimson of it sparkling with an otherworldly light.  How precious. How wasteful, like the life I’ve lived. I was weak now, so weak. It was time, time to leave. I wanted to look at myself right about now. Was I beautiful now? Would all the people that told me so think it at this moment? Would I still be precious to those that told me so after I was blue and drained? Would I still be gorgeous after the essence of my being was striped from me and I was a bloated mess? Would you love me after I was gone? Would you remember me? Would you think back to the moments we’ve had after you’re married and gray? Or would I just be a fleeting soul amidst the wave of countless faces? “Did I love you?” you might wonder. I’d say you were the only one I loved. I wished the force of the love I felt for you would be powerful enough to keep me here. I was wrong. I love you, but I could not live for you. But I will still love you as I am dragged to my grave. I will love you as sand is forced over my coffin. And I will love you as my soul is hauled to the pit by merciless hands to pay for my sin. Who else could love you to the end?

He did not let me finish my thought of both the wrongness of what we were about to do and the regret I would suffer after.  I felt his hands encircle my waist,  hauling me close and flattening me on his own body. His other  arm had moved up to my face, cupping my cheek and pulling me up so our eyes could meet.  I felt both the gentleness and the roughness of his gaze, his dark eyes flaring with desire.  He leaned down, his Lips closing in on mine, deepening in to a shivering kiss. There was non of my lover's gentleness or now, I realized, non of his restraint.  He was not holding back as he drowned in the moment pulling me in with him.  He tasted of sweetness and the slight tinge of copper.  I felt his fingers burrow deep in to my back,  sending flairs of pain and pleasure in to me.  In stead  of the feverish heat I had felt with my lover, here there was coldness, the utter chill that gushed out if his body, but it still did not matter because it was still perfect. Without my consent, my hand had moved up across his chest and was grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down to my lips. I was defeated and he did not resist, Instead,  his teeth crashed with mine while his tounge drew invisible lines across my shaking lips. 

I moaned and pleaded for him to take me,  take me from this life, because nothing will ever be as flawless as this moment . We fell in to the pool I created from my own blood, my body paling out in his arms. I felt him nod between the crook of my neck.  Death never disappoints.

Every so often I wake up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason and on the periphery of my vision, I see you seating on the edge of my bed. Your face seems to be dappled but I figure you always have that crooked smile you seem to favor. No matter how many times I’ve seen this it doesn’t fail to surprise me each time. My heart races until the force of my blood gashing through my veins is almost painful. I gasp and I blink, and when my eyes open your no longer there like you’re no longer in my life. I keep expecting to be content with that fact but that hasn’t happened yet and it worries me that it never will.

Grieving is such a strange thing, you know, crying for someone you’ll never see again. You’re supposed to mourn all the pain the loss has caused you so you’ll be better again, better to live your life, to love again, to see the world in a new light away from the shade that person had on you. But what if your life is the shade and that person was the only light in it, as if they were made from the brightest lanterns?


You once wrote to me in the middle of the night, “Make me feel something.” You said, “I’m so numb.” You said. And I pictured how you whispered it after, with your fingers shaking as they gripped the phone as though it was your life’s salvation. I held you close with arms that you could not see but felt and my words covered you like false temptation, beautiful and alluring, and just absolutely right.  Yet they were all just fragments in our memories because we made nothing veritable. I never really let you go after even though I thought I did. My soul imprinted on yours and it was as if that moment ripped part of my being and kept it with you.


I never really let you go even though you broke my bones as if that moment was when we first lipped from the tallest towers. We floated on broken wings and we told each other that all we had was fragments of each moment we spent together until one of us decided no more moment should be made.  It was never acknowledged, of course, because selfishness was in our veins, not matter how much we tried to live for one another, there was a silent clock ticking in both our heads, screaming to for us to stop; to just give up, to leap from the tower and to forget. I should have hurdled first so I would not have to see the remains of you shattered.

Sometimes things are okay,
And its also acceptable to admit that they are
Its also alrght to fear words could jinks them and make them bad again.
Sometimes its okay to be afraid,  of loss and abandonment,
And its alright to voice those fears,
But its also sanctioned to fear those fears and keep them in a trapped state.
And its fine to hide it from people
As it is fine to share them to whom you please.
Its all right to wake up in the morning and dread the sight of yourself in the mirror.
And its granted to have doubts about who you are.
But its also okay to let people see you and convince you what they see is nothing but flawless.
Its okay to hate yourself and love others as it is okay to let others love you. 
And to believe you have a gorgeous yet dark soul is perfectly beautiful too.