May I be the one to see you. I mean. Truly see you. May I be the one to explore parts of you that you have silenced in fear of being judged. May I know the thoughts that swirl through your mind in your most silent moments. May I learn the lines to your favorite songs so that we can sing them together as we drive with no destination in mind. May I memorize your favorite snacks so that when you are feeling too much or not enough we can eat and talk. Or eat and silence. Whichever you prefer. May I become your pillow. May my chest feel like home and a safe place for you to rest your head to relieve yourself of the weight that life has placed on your shoulders. May I help untie the knots of experiences that feel too difficult to carry because you have had to do it alone. May I love you in ways you didn't think possible because you haven't been shown true love. May I enter your life and show you that you can be vulnerable and it will be okay. May I paint your black and white into color.

my heart accepted defeat long before the light had left my home and to know of satans sorrow was a truth that made the smallest smile i could summon a monumental victory.
alone with the ever slowing beats of my heart now completely unable to keep track of days and nights and against the dark sky, time began to lose all intuitive wisdom.

and with the ******* of space and time came distortion.

ghouls and ghost became party guests
the foul sorts of scaly serpents and winged apparitions had gathered in rows of perfect stillness like marble chess pieces standing guard. they seemed now like great guardians of my fragile spirit. losing hope in the home of horror. the scarlet sky now began to sound its final hurah before the life was to forsake this place. and so it stretched out its smoky hands like raven wings draping darkness over the horizon destroying the last light of what i once knew
and within was me,
accustomed to the demons devilish dance, a prisoner with no will to leave, nor any power to see beyond the tomb that felt like the only thrown i was to belong too

years had passed this way, littered with tragic happenenings, broken relationships, addictions, and loss

now as if by some sort of devine intervention i could feel the dry dead air come alive.the blood drenched sky had stopped shrieking and as i raised my head in relief the horizon burst into brilliant trails of flame emitting hypnotic hues of purple and blue. crackling against the dead air like gun powder a blaze

and in the swell of confusion a sort of panic gave birth to momentum giving way now to a frequency with holy resonance, that filled my flask with potent tonic, upon drinking it began driving fire back into the abandoned forges of my humanity. from the depths of self denial i had emerged without the shackles of self deception to bind me, and from the grace of gods design

I knew there was hope.

i’ve written poems about other people, and i’ve compared them to galaxies. i’ve held them up in my sky, and i’ve kept myself down on earth,
just looking.
which, to be honest, is okay,
because if i were to read a poem about myself, i wouldn’t want to be called a star.
i’d want to be old buildings,
or the ocean.
or the feel of a hand.
i want to be the folds of a flower,
or a stupid scribble that you never throw away.

1. i love architecture and old buildings. i want to be compared to the high ceilings in european churches. i want to make people feel a different presence when they walk into my life. i want a poem about how someone said they looked into my eyes and felt peace and grace flood their insides.

2. i love rainy cities at night. i love how the street lights glow and glide across the wet cobblestone. i want someone to see me as those lights in the city. i want them to love those specks of gold, despite the grey and the ugly storm around them.  i want someone to love the storm for showing them how beautiful it all can be.

3. i love pure undulation, and movement. i want to make someone sigh out butterflies when they think of me walking over to them. like my walk is the tinkling of fairy bells, or the movement of the wind through the trees. i want them to see me moving like the colors in Degas’ ballerinas. floating, patchy and pink; how every hesitant brush is a masterpiece itself.

4. i love pictures of sunrises on the sea. i want a poem about how waking up next to me is as gratifying as the moment the sunrise explodes unto the ocean. i want a poem about how you play with my hair as carefully as you would when trying to catch seafoam before it slips away.

5. i love pictures of people in the car with the rear view mirror in sight. i want a poem about the feeling you get in silence riding with someone you have a crush on. how the silence smacks a smile across your face, no matter what. i want a poem that raves about the beauty in how i reached for your hand on a snowy day. i want a poem that trips over words trying to articulate how monumental you felt. i want a poem that doesn't come close.

6. i like pictures of the metro because of how there are a million different worlds occurring at once, but they are moving together towards something new for a small piece of time. i want a world with someone inside of that moment. i want only a moment of forever; a moment of how you felt like we were a world in a bubble.

i thought that because i knew what i wanted, things could fall into place.

[someone i look up to once said that her house and style is like the inside of her brain turned inside out. and that is the inspiration behind this piece. and i will read it as many times as i need to, to remind me how i deserve to feel.]