candles light up her room
it smells like herbs
fall is her favorite season
she enjoys the rain
while dancing trough the woods
she's one with nature and the sun
but in love with the moon
everyone's terrified of her
we are sitting in your living room.
the light is streaming in from the window and reflects off your cheekbones just perfectly.
the beams meet the tv screen that is playing your favorite movie
it's playing quite loudly but my brain is silent.
every thought and emotion that usually consumes my brain is stagnant.
as you look at me,
I smile and give a breathy laugh, trying to pretend I haven't been staring at you since the last time you looked over at me...
five minutes ago.
but you laugh a little because you know
and I smile wider.
I find myself believing that your giggles could cure the most infectious diseases.
they could stop time.
they could make the most stubborn atheist believe in God.
and your scent that lingers on my t-shirt is the closest to Heaven I'll ever get.
you are back to watching the movie
and I am back to staring at you until you look over again.
What's worse to you?
Being ignored or being used?
How about when they're interlaced
Still impossible to choose
Either way you see it
No matter what
sinking into hills
the sun is held within its knees
this sun is a round suspended gong
booming brazen color
on the other side of sunset
there is a
NaPoWriMo 2017 Day 6
Looking at something from
many different angles
the videos of children and humans
striving for a breath
their bodies limp
from a saran attack
I would strap my *** to
a cruise missile
after getting a tattoo
all over my body saying
this is for you!
It was sickening
and I cried
my stomach wretched
here this world is
in the 21st century
and some of us
are still barbarians
we listen to the
little girl some
call the Syrian
my heart breaks
Is it odd that I tend to forget that humans are not objects?
Toys to be exact?
So malleable, yet so fragile at the same time?
It's almost like a little game.
One that I need to stop playing.
Because if you play with your toys too much,
They can become damaged,
or even break.
So here we are again,
I have words that will
hit you harder than a train.
They have no point, no morals.
I aimlessly speak like a madman
of things you'll never know.
Maybe if you're unlucky enough
you'll have a similar version
of my state of mind inside.
Put the gun to my head and
let my imagination do the rest.
Am I creative enough?
I'm still alive, so I guess not.
I'm sure I must talk to you
a little longer before I can truly go.
Departures last longer than arrivals.
They stick in the head more.
No pun intended.
Your eyes smoulder with an imagination that is even bolder than I could have dreamed and colder than this toxic air we've been forced to breathe.
You write poetry across your face to form a Gas mask of rythym, blocking out the hate yet sealing in ideas that might frustrate you.
You hear the birds in the trees and you read the articles in every magazine, you take in information like the bees to the Queen.
Your thoughts radiate an aura surrounding your entire body, you bleed history and pop culture facts, you need the written word like an addict needs their cigarette packs.
You're empathetic to your core, you feel what everyone else does so you hide yourself in your mind until you can categorize the emotions from the lies.
I know you can feel the love in your heart even through all the cracks, like a weathered and torn apart roadmap but you're taped together perfectly and even with a few wrong turns you always find your way back to me.