when you ask me if I'm bored
of listening to your terrible stories,
it makes me think about
what boredom means to me
and why it’s beauty that I find
in apparent mundanity.

you color my life in every tone of grey -
in a nourishing and poetic, underrated way.
GREY - the soul of every color in the world;
Invisible and aligned - right between extremes -
like all well designed things are known to be.

Or maybe because grey
feels like routine,
and you’re the everyday
that's to come and that has been.

you're where I set my bar for normal;
you're my Sunday night pajama informal.

You’re my common sense, and my reality check,
my perspective lens, my goodnight peck.
and even your grim phone voice
and plot less stories on sleepless nights
are part of the palette  I've come to adore,
painting magic in monochrome.

I laugh through my words
So my pain goes unheard.
I joke through my darkest hour,
To drain the pain of power.

You won't see me frown,
But that doesn't mean I'm okay.
I'll take the crown,
"King of laughs,"you say.
I'll take the crown,
But the pain doesn't wash away.

rise in the sun,
flourish and grow.
spread the delicacy,
open up to the world.
let the light shine
and beginnings begin,
because flowers seize opportunity.

The future is in a plastic bag,
easy to see and possible to reach.
The contents are all muddled inside,
one big blur of possibilities.

I could stick my hand in and feel around,
blindly grasping shapes and outcomes.
Or I could wait it out, see them spill out,
and have it all revealed at once.

But when I look inside, the only truth
is that I can hope and wait.

Some days I wish
I could bury you.
Other days I wish
I could share your grave

You complain,
saying he treats you "like a mug".

But darling, he will always fill his cup
as long as you boil the water.