There once was a boy with chameleon skin,
But his eyes told a story the more he gave in.
There was no hiding, as he caught the attention
Of a helpless little star, stranded in the horizon.
Familiar with the longing, she yearned to fall fast;
However, she couldn’t, held by the hurt of her past,
Until, one day, she saw the twinkle in his eye.
“How could a chameleon outshine the night’s sky?”
She questioned her reality, bound by insecurity,
But dared to lean further into his sincerity.
One night, she tripped, and out of bounds she fell,
But she couldn’t help but dance, mesmerized by gravity’s well.
“How silly I must look” she said, approaching the ground,
But all else disappeared once she heard a familiar sound.
His mindful inquiry, she never knew she needed.
Her heart began to blaze, “that’s all I want,” she pleaded.
She couldn’t help but be inspired by the sight
Of the twinkle in his eyes, refracting her own light.
Lightyears of observation presented a reality,
One she so wanted to feel, but could not really see.
She oft’ recalled the hour that her heart was still,
Remembering his freedom, while he perched upon that hill.
There once was a boy with chameleon skin,
But she loved how he shined as he failed to blend in,
So as she saw his heart, she really hoped he knew
That while the whole world could watch her, she told him
“I see you...”

Goodbye, my dear friend, for now.
I’m gone for only a day,
But I know that you know how,
for our next minuet, I’ll await.

Goodbye, my dear ol’ Chickering,
‘Til the next time I’ll sit and then
I’ll listen to your diamond ring
Bless my ears again.

Thank you, yes you, my dear,
For offering your friendly counsel,
For lending me your patient ears
Over years and through tears as well.

Just a day, my dear, lil’ piano,
Until I’ll peer again into your musical window.

I have a friend in town from out of state.
Though, whenever he’s around, he receives much hate.
The people around me share my same profession.
We’re creative writers, who who occasionally seek attention,
but there is one person we don’t want to see walk
down our humble little street we call the writer’s block.

To the boiz...
I hope you’re strong enough.
I hope you can carry this responsibility,
because, yaknow, when you pick her up,
get her Snapchat,
slide into her DMs,
it’s important that you support her.
Hold her tight.
With her feet swept out from underneath her,
she has nothing left to support her
but
you.
If you give out,
someone’s about to fall...
in all of the wrong ways,
and here’s an inside tip...
it won’t be you who’s falling.
Yes, to the boiz,
you know I say this with well meant intentions.
I say this with honesty
and love,
but also with the understanding that
if something is dropped,
It’s most likely to break.
To the boiz,
you’re walking a slippery *****.
Don’t slip up.
Just keep this in mind.