Pieces of us were breaking off from our consciousness,
And scattered into the daylight mist.
As we let our bodies dance among the forest clearing,
Our souls turned into fireflies,
And our hearts like lions,
Sun slipping past the horizon,
Rainbow clouds overhead,
It was then that we let out the tears
We never got to shed.
You are a teacher.
You came with many stories to tell,
And from a whole different world,
Bearing fruits of patience and the ability
To read and free my mind.
Because inside my head lives this stubborn creature,
And with it, there's no such thing as peace.
You saw the turmoil my mind puts me through,
How such troubling thoughts can inebriate
How it wraps its chains tighter than any metal alloy in the world.
And so in my times of worry,
I'd always see your hand held out to catch mine,
Eyes steady to meet mine,
Mind ready to penetrate mine.
"There's no sense in feeling those emotions."
I loved and hated how you'd always find a way under my skin,
The first time I got close to you,
I was drunk and filled with aimless lust,
Lips set out on a mission to kiss,
And that was when our mouths first danced.
Under the fluorescent flickering bulbs of our friend's garage,
I kissed you.
With the smell of stagnant beer,
And the static T.V. blaring,
I. Kissed. You.
And I did it harder than I ever thought I could.
The dynamite set off between the softness of our lips.
To this day I can't remember what could have possibly been the trigger.
Just another act of Mother Nature.
I know you felt it too, don't you dare lie.
Some beautiful sunny days and starry nights passed by
Before we entered the eye of the storm,
And then after that there was nothing but hurricanes and droughts
To lose and hate ourselves in.
Misunderstanding hung in the air like a bitter stubborn fog
As we both witnessed something that was once new
Turn old.
Within a flick of an eye
Our souls grew light and weary,
And drifted apart like seeds into the sky.
We became daises, wildflowers,
Nothing more than little weeds
Growing skinny and tall
On two separate ends of the prairie plane
That have yet to be pushed back into the earth
For another shot at loving.