I used to soar high above the skies
Taking flight to anywhere in sight
Grazed upon lighting that almost killed me
My wings deigned in defeat as I bleed
But this heart are my wings of steel
Mettle armored with my will
To never giving up
**And to fly again

endless times
you have called me
in and out of your orbit
sharing moments
of melancholy and madness
i'm drawn once more
to the violet light you emit
you stand beside me
and i feel it
f a m i l i a r i t y
you are the constellation
in my darkened sky
your hand in mine
a hushed whisper
during a forced goodbye
a forbidden confession
of an eternal craving

i wish i could hold our memories
tightly inside rose petals
despite the aching
despite the uncertainty
i know only this
if i am to live wholly
i can't do so without you
my fallen valentine
my immortal shadow
and so i'll wait for you
over the hills past saturn
underneath the burning sky
like a wilting flower
summoning the rains.

She is laughter trapped in glass

Eyes dancing with auroras hue

Moon child draped in alabaster light

The girl who would always leave me tangled in knots

Polaris

A taste of his lips
May satisfy my desire
Curb tonight's longing

But would just a taste
Satisfy my burning want?
Or would the need grow?

I yearn for his touch
I ache for him in silence
He will never know

Somehow I don’t want to talk
Because what I will say
Will end up being lost.
Silence, but at what cost?
It is not that I don’t pray
For this uncertainty to stop
But there is nothing I can say
To help me today.

I remember when I first saw you
in such a state,
shifting with the direction of light,
viola shaped,
the boudoir door slightly ajar.

Rings exchanged,
veil removed,
the bells had chimed for us,
and then for
ships in safe harbor.

The pitter patter of
surf cascading in
from an open window,
otherwise hushed,
turnt and *****,
dimples showing
whether you smiled or not.

Turnabout was fair play
--azure hues in moonlit pastel
caressing the folds and ties
around midnight’s chemise
--the lure of velveteen
and vast soft canvas of pearl
--areolae circles and quaint triangles
in the thick of things,
gift-wrapped in elegant fur.

Belle-chose, under
the waxing, waning crescent
of dainty omphalos, yawning in chiaroscuro,
red-faced and piqued,
quite shy coming out of the shadows.

The batting of lashes,
the lingering scent of bouquet
--like the seduction of flute song,
I followed and followed
until thoroughly lost within you.