I am a jet black summers sky at night

I miss our love like the sun during winter.
What I have now learnt is how to survive during the cold,
and how much more I am enjoying the cooler months.

You may be human, but you’re also a flower.
You hold so much power as you walk through April,
no avail.
Head risen.
Petals curtly tucked away.
A rush.
Heart closed.
Walking past the naked trees,
you shiver from the Autumn breeze.
You wait for Spring,
although knowing you haven’t met winter.
You think that this year your heart will freeze.

That breath that you take is my favourite sound.

The sun inside of me shines different when I am in the presence among you.

Most days a hazardous storm.
I, a person, not too cold- neither warm.
My starlit sky was almost always covered with a gothic black atmosphere.
Many feared.
Sometimes it was too much,
allowing a rainfall of emotions to appear in a rush.
Sometimes... when you are around, you bless the ground I walk on.
You make me laugh,
and you fill my sky with a show of thundering fireworks.
You had many quirks.

In a cold Summers breeze,
With blinding lights and Autumn leaves,
Along with children's dreams- you live that yellow English life.

She was a lover of the communist region,
We spoke of wars, death and treason.

What were we on about?

Living life with people in times and places,
Forgetting all universe spaces.

"Because everyone was dying... And you were the cure of it".

It’s like the sun is in me.
Wild energy,
feeling warm and free.
When I am with you I start living, and find the person that I need to be.

I stay up all night,
wishing to be amongst the city light.

Influx of leaves is all that my soul would need.
In this light,
waiting for the moon to appear in the dark night,
I lay amongst the golden ages leaves.

I love the sun.
But sometimes he can be as ruthless as a gun.
Mean,
scorching.
Burning little plants.
Sometimes,
I’d just with he’d give them a chance.

Time takes place in moments. A lot of the time I want to keep still.
Capture the moment.
Become the air and live amongst every atom in our universe.
To understand life, but to live it without questioning... wondering...
To be the air, or to be nothing at all.

And as the sun sets,
I let my mind reset,
ready for the next day.

Autumn is harsh. Colder. Days feel shorter.
It may try to take your petals. So darling, be brave.
Be strong. Try to smile.
I promise it won’t last for long.
After all, it’s only seasonal.

I love your brown eyes, they’re Autumn living within a soul.
A walking soul that see’s the beauty of life through their own perspective.
I can only imagine that they would see the world golden.

If the world stopped on its axel.
Would you re-spin it just to find me?

You want love? Then go and find it- be it.
You want warmth? Fly to the sky, be the Sun.
You want happiness? Then drink a tin of yellow paint.
Don’t just wait. Be who you want. Do what you must to live a life that is entirely choreographed, painted and sung by you.

In my head there is a bed full of roses.
Erected,
reaching for hope,
in all sorts of poses.
Some white, some red.
Others wilt, sad,
lying dead- out of dances

I could live in your veins and still find a way to miss you.

You could push me into the water,
Holding my head under- and I'd still swim back to you.

Sometimes I write in my own blood,
Some would say it's painful.

But my blood,
Is your blood.
It's us.

Your voice makes me smile,
My blood pumps.

You keep me alive,
Even when you are killing me.

Blood is red.
It's our passion.
Our war.
Our hate.
Our love.

You make me exist even when I feel like I am dying.

Looking at you was like staring into the blaring sun, first a subtle beauty followed by tremendous pain.

I want to paint in the sky,
but I am afraid that I will ruin the tranquil beauty of blue.

Petals brown- shrivelled.
Not pretty enough to live in this ground.
Silent sound.
Mother Earth bound.
No flowers bloom,
no floral crown.
I’m just an ugly daisy- a clown.
The sun’s love for me, never found.
For now, I’m in search of a new home ground.

Soft iris.
Lilacs in your eyes,
You use this to your disguise.

If you love me.
If you really love me.
Why is it that you look at the other stars, with such enthralling lust in your eyes?

I’ve been planting flowers for so long,
that I have forgotten to stop and appreciate them.

I roll myself into you, cascading into your summery warmth, kissing your shoulder blade. I refuel myself on you.

I love how clouds look like draped curtains- the fairytale type.
I find it enthralling that most look like a heavy mass, puffy and angry- yet only a body of water and air.
I love how they live memories.
How they shape the sky, as if they were blankets- comforting.
How they wear and reflect the sunset.
How they never sleep, enduring long days and nights.
I love that there are so many types of clouds, almost like different races.
I love how uniquely (but simply) that they are made.
I love that they are live art, an installation.
I love that they are in this world, my world.

I’d prefer to be a star.
Lonesome in the enormity of the night sky.
At least I’d know that somewhere, at sometime, someone will always be appreciating me.

Everyday I fall more and more in love with the sun.

Let’s let our hearts crash into the sun.

When I am sad I will return to the sky.
For it is calm, cooling,
embodied with cloud- white angles reflecting the Sun’s light.
Here I am free,
no blues,
just time to breathe;
goodnight.

Lady lilac,
reserved,
modest,
shy.
You don’t need no guy.
Live and point your dreamy pearlescent petals to the sky.

Eyes a devil blue.
Drowning those who swim in your hue.
A captivating, gorgeous blue.
Distracted by the iris, the pupil a black hole- a virus- ******* the stars out of people.
Pulling them to the edge of your eye, you watch them from afar, as they try and survive.

Listening to the soundtrack that the rain is playing,
I want to be beside you.
Yet, here we are in two different towns,
in two different beds loving from afar.

Worn out. No gas, no flame.
No shimmer, no shine.
I, another dying star in the jet black sky.

The flowers don't bloom,
And the bees fall into sudden doom.
The seasons pass by,
With the sun and the water and the people.
Nobody sees.
Nobody buys flowers.
Nobody has nice gardens.
The bees start to fly away,
Some die.
The ladies never receive flowers,
They cry.
The cities are empty and dull,
The people smile sadly.

The city a polluted mess,
yet;
flowers still grow here.

Wine tasting will take a hold again.
When Spring has sprung,
And flowers lift themselves from their bums.
A season show of display will keep you in a wondering dismay.
Sit back,
Drunk up.
Oh, and please fill my wine glass the f*ck up.

Flowers seem to bloom ever so beautifully,
The colour stains to them like blood.

The water that filled their stalks gave them the most power weapon to live for,
Even if it were for a week, or even a month over time.

When the time came,
Slowly and peacefully the daisies petals shrivel and lose colour.

They fall...

Because he was her water that quenched her thirst,
And her sun that helped her grow.

He represented yellow.

Yellow represented many things love, the sun, happiness, and warmth.

But to her,
He was a daisy.

Flowers and pain, a down- pour of rain.
Coffee in a cup, far too hot.
Reds and blues and greens, fields of flowers creating a colourful scene.

Tonight you kissed the ocean.

You gave light to the waves.

You gave them everything they needed to dance towards my shoreline.

There is love all in me everywhere...

I never had a care for atoms,
or the ones that were made up in stars.
I only cared about the ones in you,
that built and made you the person that you are.

Why is it that when I cause you pain,
you always come back to me?
Is that maturity?

My love,
Your heart.

The Suns flares,
The moon’s phase.

Your oceanic eyes that carry the storm.
My temper that will end us.

The flowers you gave me, dry.

Fundamentally,
these were all of the things that would make me cry.

Holding onto my last hope,
I watch as the flowers finally die.

Please,
when you’re planting yourself in someone’s heart, make sure that there is enough sun to begin with, before you start.

On days filled with a yellow and orange fire sky, I find comfort laying next to you in the late afternoons.

I wanted you to be my Autumn leaf.
Glittering gold hiding beneath.
Smiling at you, while getting cinnamon out of my teeth.
Sun warm,
cool breeze.
Hold my hand as we walk through crunchy leaves.

When you become old,
grey and withered;
I’d still display you in a vase.

When the worlds on fire,
on my mind,
you’re my desire.
[Hearts on fire]
In my field.
Flowers caught alight,
complementing my hearts burning delight.