When the orange hue and citric light hits your "I might be......"
find me where the sun meets the ocean.
Where the wild ones go when in need of quiet.
Where the fisherman laughs as one of his boys slips under the net.
Have you found me?
Look closely, my dear.
I'm so close.
You're cold again
"Find me" I cry out as my laugh follows behind me.
Like in a dream your foggy eyes find me.
My bright smile triggers something in you.
Your sparkling eyes only reflected the sky.
The dark gray sky.
You're hollow as you find me.
Once again, too late.
I am infinite I swear.
Don't cry little boy it is not your fault.
I choose to join the crew!
I will find you on the other side of the world.
Not where heaven and earth meet, but where the two oceans do.
Find me. The boat has still not sailed
Late at night, her skin glows against the blue moon.
Mid-afternoon her hair sparkles with the sunny rays.
Her hair as yellow as sunflower field.
Her summer days are filled with numbing cotton candy, vibrant pink bows, cheesy romantic novels and a luminous tone that follows her shadow.
But, the other girl...
Late at night, she disappears from sight... all one can hear are her cries.
Mid-afternoon her hair is wild and frizzy as she runs from the glowing man.
She does not glow like a white light...
She works all day under the sun and leaves with a tan tone and watery eyes.
She is so beautiful. She is not like all the other summer girls. She doesn't need the blinding light to be noticed.
Slavery was practiced throughout the American colonies in the 17th and 18th centuries, and African slaves helped build the new nation into an economic powerhouse through the production of lucrative crops such as tobacco and cotton.
Some want you because they like who they become around you.
Others hate you because of how much others love you.
And sometimes, only sometimes you're just too much for some people.
And you: well, you can't even see it.
A picture perfect boy with a clean background check.
I think I know what you're hiding. But I don't dare assume. I don't want others to mistaken my admiration for jealousy.
And I watch you. My eyes always seem to rest on your knowing face.
And you know this. You feel my gaze. You know so much more than what you want us to see. how dare you trick us this way? You love how others see you.
So pure and kind yet so demanding and unkind.
Your trick us. You create this image of yourself that is so unnaturally perfect it weakens everyone's heart. I wished somebody would have warned me about how fake your magic is. But I see through you, I really do. You want what doesn't want you because you don't understand why they can't see what everyone else is supposed to see. But you don't see it either? Can you? You search for the answer that you have never understood. What's missing? Why don't they want me? You know what you're missing you are just waiting for someone to point it out for you.
No one will ever treat you better than you treat yourself and this is what I wish to scream inside your ear.
It is now my favorite color
It fills me with joy
fulfillment it gives
It is the soft hue of an 8 am morning
the honey-tinted specks in your eyes
The blanket your freckles lay on- top of
the color that means so much to me
Its a soft morning in Italy
its a soft morning near the ocean
its in the pages of my dads old travel journal
its in the sand of the worlds deepest sea
it is in the walls of the little room beneath the Canadian stars
Its in the gold glasses when the sun hits them
Its life in a color.
iTs the color I see in you
It caresses me like a fether
it embraces me like a hug
I feel it, like I feel you.
I want to sing this color and what it evokes
I wish I could be this color
There are people who cannot speak without smiling.
There are people who cannot cry without blaming.
And there are songs I cannot sing without dancing.
And I sing you like a song I heard when I was young.
And I love like I discovered the concept.
I want to teach you how.
How to feel...
How to sing...
The drizzle of rain hugs me.
The shadow of your eyes miss me...
I Want to sing you like a song I cannot dance to.
Oh my love, There are people who fantasise about freedom and then slowly build the walls to their own prison.
Beauty in a bottled ship is sent to a bottled man.
Hurry in a speeding train is sent to a timer.
Loneliness in a creeping plane is sent to a grave digger.
Roses in a colourful base are sent to a dead man.
Words from a love poem are sent to a fearless man.
Tears from the sea are sent to a child.
Ashes from a burned soul are sent to a jew.
Maps from a traveler are sent to a paralysed boy.
Stars from an astronaut are sent to a blind man.
I cried my eyes out today.
I drowned in despair.
And I floated in air.
Two eyes shed a different tear.
One, warm and forever - remembering the childhood friend.
The other, craved a forgotten person.
One reminds the other of how happy she should be!
The other, weeps in silence as it endures memory de-fi-cit.
Falling simultaneously towards the ground.
Quiet and unnoticed/ drenching and drowning.
Why is it that I go back to such horrible thoughts?
I live in them with a colourless splash.
I am happy, I believe. I was happier, I recall.