Life without her is like life without the sky, 70% of what it could be. Those were the first words i heard of her and they've never left me since.
She could make anything and anyone sound enticing; she does make everything and everyone sound enticing. She makes me complete; she makes me a poet. Maybe it's because she's so poetic simply by the way she is. The way her words flow out of her so effortlessly; the way she'll pick up and leave at a moments notice if it means an adventure with one of her many human infatuations; the look she gives when her words aren't enough to show her affections; the way she gives me that look with those cherry eyes of hers. The way she looks when i speak of those cherry eyes cause the meaning of that description still baffles her to this day; how she doesn't know the way her eye lashes curl up and flare out, more than ever in those moments; how's there's a sparkle in her eyes she'll never see because it only comes out when she gives that look, a look im sad to think she'd never give her self. She'll never see herself. She sees energies and dynamics and persons and places and sometimes it's through a lense of grey, but her view is spectacular unlike any other; this is why when im with her i get caught up in the moment, nothing but what matters matters. I share a glimpse of that view just for a while; it's like driving when the sun is setting and finally coming to an open field with the perfect view. But the view of her is better. I don't want to experience anything new but with her; each and every abandoned house, nights of wasting a full tank of gas, adventures on bus rides to unplanned places, all the seasons and random trips without reasons.
We first met in summer, sometime in june. The days were sweet and we'd only fall asleep to our tune. Now fall will come and as the wind will carry away our bad thoughts we'll only be left with the good ones that we'll leave on the pages of our notebooks we found together. I know we'll carry on until winter, drinking our coffee to keep us warm after cold sleepless nights because i wasn't there to be her blanket and she wasn't there to block everything out of my mind. Then spring will be next, our last new season together. When the cherries blossom and you'll still wreck the car before you hit that possum and ill never want those cherry eyes to end watching those morning skies with me. And when those cherry eyes can't see the colors of those cherry skies ill show you its colors through a not so poetic description, hoping that in your world of grey i can accurately portray the beauty of its rays because my eyes are the same color as your view and my soul wants to share any part it can with you.

Let's go get high on caffiene and drunk off each other.
Lets spend hours in coffee shops, with nothing in our stomaches but butterflies and my cappuccinos and your lattes. Let's become giddy and delusional and find everything amusing and not be able to do anything but laugh.
Lets drink and drive as we ride around to exciting places. With every turn down a new curvy road you'll travel deeper down the curvy roads of my mind. Ill become intoxicated and weak and you'll become more and more charming as with each turn we'll fall deeper into a drunken memory.

Remember soft suns melting onto the soft blades of grass as you lay there parallel with the perfect view
Think of the feeling of hands pressing on you, into your hands and onto your back when the only sense that wants to work is your sense of touch
Imagine the fall, filled with death as irony creeps in making everything seem alive.

Remember your words, how poetic and how destructive to your sanity, as rays of light cascade down drawing a nervous world into peace
Think of the promises you made and keep them. Never let them grow big enough to swallow someone whole
Imagine the life you want and become your own hero. Find your ****** in someone else's words, their actions; the way they'll scoop you up when you're feeling low, the way they'll lay you down in your bed in nothing but silence after days of barely speaking just to be in your presence. The way they'll bend down to clean a spill off your favorite shoes just to try to make an effort.

Remember your innocence, remember where you came from. Try to hold onto it. When it leaves it flees but the memories can give you peace. There is beauty in two bodies, every thing but innocent, coming together and only in acts of purity.
Think about the chaos in someone else's mind. Understand it, study it. If someone who's soul you can see through their eyes, a person you only want to draw closer to, can snap in an instant's moment, can turn into the person you'd never want to tie yourself to, understand it. Get under it. Get into it
Imagine two minds wrapped around the other so tightly, imagine the damage that would follow. The turmoil, the remnants, the wreckage; the worth.

Remember those memories from your parents' downfall and think to see if that turmoil would be worth it in your own life. Be kind, don't always do as you're told. Imagine if you could be your own hero. Imagine letting yourself go and giving someone else the power to make you vulnerable.
We're here for each other.

Energy. I tend to feed off of people's energy. Ups n downs and ins n outs, no matter the feel. But feeling yours i knew i needed more of whatever it was, before even knowing what kind of freckled- face mess i was getting myself into.
The feeling beats me, you looked into me, not looking but seeing into me even before i could put my rambling circles of thoughts into words. You wanted to know everything that went on in my scattered brain, and i opened up to you and showed you more sides to me than ive ever shown anyone. You wanted me to dump my brain onto a page and now i only try so you can further understand me because i want you to know and see and feel it all. For a beautiful ******* soul to want to get to know mine, its scary and i want it more than ever. It brings the slightest hope that by knowing more you'll only want to continue to draw deeper into me and end my fear of only having a whirlwind of a time with someone. I hate endings and i know nothing but. But you opened my mind and by helping turn my thoughts into words, as the words come out it brings a clarity of the things ive always felt, only now turning into a reality of a statement. As you speak it comes to life. Your life is full of adventure and going with the flow and writing and reading and i only want to read everything your eyes have seen to share one more view with you. Your views are golden and pure and its different and beautiful so i wonder cause i don't know why you get high all the time. What are you trying to get away from? What feeling are you trying to numb? Can i feel that feel and have it become real, knowing it'd turn surreal? Your rhymes are dimes and you know so much you don't need to fall into the trap of paying for an education that should be free for the free spirits like you. But then i want you to fall because i can only imagine all that you could do. Because you pull me back into the moments of time, here and now and the way you frantically hit the keys of that keyboard because your ideas flow out of you like the ocean your soul is really made of, because you don't have a phone and i want nothing more than to pick mine up and call you just to know your current thoughts. Was there more than simply liking the color purple to trade shirts? To have a piece of me? Because now i have a piece of you and i never let anyone but i let you see me. Even when i didnt you did. But my lines are jagged and yours are squiggly and I want you to know everything that goes on in my mind so that maybe you'll want to find out for yourself and it scares me. Because ive never watched a show someone's told me to watch before and I only like the sound of that song when it's early in the morning playing in your room. You told me to open my mind and spill it onto paper but sometimes words just aren't enough.
Dishes never seemed more appealing

What'd you do today?
Can i get a mere glimpse into the life i wish i was apart of, only to be one step closer to understanding your world that you think is full of stress and is anything but care-free as you think me?
Where've you been today?
Who'd you give the gift of your presence, what memories did you make without me? Did you laugh more than normal, was it peaceful? Did you have to look away to avoid eye contact with her when your feelings welled up from inside of you, as they always do, and come out on that face showing nothing but adornment? Did you see deeper into someone else or watch the sunset with a fairy with those cherry eyes of yours? Again?
How was your day today?
Did you make Tunica feel ugly? For once those questions are not my own and as i try to imagine your face as you wrote it a smile comes across mine.

En un mundo de cristal que no puede ser roto,
Monstruos muestran amor y
el heroe consigue enfermo.
El mundo al reves y
comio un arco de iris,
El predicador pidió por una Dos Equis.
Fui buscando por algo que
no puedo recordar,
Pero yo se que es algo que
nunca yo he visto.
En mi camino un hombre viejo
me detuvo,
y dijo,
HIJO. Ven conmigo!
Asi, yo fui.
Todavia no puedo recordar,
Algo sobre los duraznos en las playas,
o tal vez eran papayas,
Pero nos encontramos un fuego
que nos mantuvo frio.
Durante el noche el sol
herido mis ojos,
y a la vez yo recordé todo
que yo sabe.

It's nothing like you'd expect it to be. It's losing your breath and it's losing sleep. It's waiting. Love is being vulnerable. Love is still getting nervous a year later. It's whiskey and wine. Love is letting someone in on all the people who have ever left you out. Love is telling someone where it hurts and them telling you why. Love is forgiving. Love is trying harder to better your other half more than your own. Love is staying in bed all day. Love is the cold of a fan against the warmth of a body. Love is skin. Love is child-like and everything but. Love, the right kind, is passion-filled, and it's overwhelming. Love is feeling yourself submerge and being ready to go under. Love is heavy. It's also light. Love is having someone know where you're coming from. Love is loving their bed more than your own. Love is becoming fond of the sound of snoring and the look of glasses and the feeling of carrying on tradition. Love is taking care of others when you need taking care of the most. Love is staying quiet. It's being passive. It's also speaking up. Love is choosing the sunrise or the sunset. Love is making plans for the future and the anticipation of seeing them through. Love is resilient, and it doesn't forget. Love is a muscle memory. It has phases and there's always a story.
The best thing about love is the feeling.

I've never seen black or white. I live through a vision of grey filled with reason and understanding.
I don't have opinions, I have views. I see both sides, all sides, I see everything and feel nothing. Sometimes I'll see nothing and feel everything because feelings are fleeting but time has always been my companion. Time to think, time to seclude, time to make time when sometimes there is no time to be given. I think when I was a child my first step was a step backwards. A step not into life, but secluding myself from it. I will always have a hunger to see and go and do more but I've taken what I've been given and stepped backward to see and feel as much as I can. Always living in that farther place has made me believe I'm not experiencing what others experience. I watch and observe and I wait until I'm finally cozied up in a small shack at the bottom of a memory-filled place somewhere. Anywhere.
I don't think, I know. You truly are you surround yourself with and the areas that surround you. I know I will never reach my own personal enlightenment, or maybe happiness, until I'm in that happy place. So in the meantime I remain the minimalist I was born to be, letting few things into my grasp and few people into my life because I'm waiting for the day I can pick up and leave and take my first step into life.
In everything there's a double meaning.

Ink on your body and my body on your mind. You were exciting, as exciting as you would get me when i became intoxicated on your art and your love for the indians and your **** and the way you smiled like my mind and soul was making you happier than my body. I always said i would never rely on another to create my happiness. But the deeper you came inside my mind the more i needed to know what was really going on in yours. Free, we were free. No we didn't like labels, we said from the beginning. But as time went on i needed to know you were mine because each time i let you in you drove a little piece of my soul out. I knew it, i knew that but i continued to let it happen because every time you broke me down it temporarily built me up. Built me up to believe it was more than two bodies, but two souls. But i kept returning because i loved to trace the roses on those shoulders of yours, i wanted to say hello to the indians on your thigh and read the words on your back. And in between you would draw me roses and tell me sweet little lies and buy me a pipe to use with each other in parks to watch the sky spin and twirl like the times we'd purposefully have too much to drink. I was drunk off of a whirlwind of new faces, exciting places; your films and stick-shifts and downtown bars and roaming around in cars. But you never bought me roses, we never did anything sentimental. The closest you got to touching my heart was when you touched everything but.

No one's ever made me feel so empty

I'm not exactly sure which is better: losing sleep over tiresome thoughts or sleeping your life away days at a time for the same reason. I believe deep down we all want good to win; we want to be better, to grow, to eat three times a day, and be light. But even deeper we find the want for not really knowing anything, only acting based off our emotions. We want to cave in, to be human and live in a mystery. Knowledge is power, but knowledge can hurt. I want the rose and its thorns, and i want its consequences. My mind moves faster than my heart could ever keep up with and I don't think I'll ever be able to settle in, sit still, and know and a c c e p t that this is my life. But until then those voices will keep running me ragged and all i can do is scream.

Life is a paradox,
a sweet disposition.

There's a sanctuary of sweet scented sorrows,
flowering vines and blowing chimes and soft symphonic tunes.

There's a wild radius of plants, some of which rarely seen,
he shows you around his paradise with eyes that only gleam.



It's a place full of life because a man lost his wife.

Your mind takes my breath away just as all the places you've adventured to took yours. We go back as if we were there together because our minds work the same as if the synchronicity of time hasn't been accurate and misplaced you too soon and me too late. We're crazy with the idea of each other, we're invested in our own lives. We share the same wants, the same goals, stuck building our own selves up until we feel good enough for one another. We share the same taste, we have the same desires. We get small tastes of each other only to tide us over in the mean time. We put each other at peace knowing that one day we'll be able to hold each other down entirely. Our mutuality creates an urge in the both of us. You call me your girl and it drives me crazy because i'm not, and we both want nothing more than for me to be. You adore me by the way i treat you, the way im crazy to you, the way im crazy for you.
You ignore me, i don't give into you; you could never bore me cause i gave my mind to you

How can there be a happy ending if you're never on the same page.

But what do you do when the voices in your head
won't
ever
cease?
I'm brought to my knees by the idea that the same feeling that brought you to the moon also takes you to dark, dark places.
There are faces we see every day and in very few moments life gives us a glimpse of the face of their hearts and their intentions.
And did i mention that mystery and enchantment can't last forever?
If those creatures don't come out to play, refrain. Don't go knocking on their doors because one day the door will open and it will be empty.

I'll write a poem for you every day we meet,
silently hoping one day to knock you off your feet.
I could sit and make lame rhymes for weeks,
only if this intrigued you would I feel complete.

It's so hard to tell if you'll feel this or not,
no doubt if it reaches your hands my face will be hot.
Rhyming words to steal a spot next to you,
don't really know if it will work or not.

Just know I'll try my hardest to earn that spot. One day ill have the courage to ask if you like me? or not?

For now, let's have fun.
You're a bit adventurous, let's go for a run
barefoot through creeks and rivers,
we'll accomplish things that will leave shivers.