you are not my gleaming sun

you are not the soft, peaceful beating of my own heart

you are not constant, sweet music to my ears,  
you are not my winged golden seraph, you are not my endlessly starry night sky

you are not my blooming rose, nor are you the color in my life nor the passion of my soul

you are here now, though
and you are warmth and adventure and a bitter, metallic, addicting taste in my mouth

you are not my life nor my one true love nor my soulmate, as such things do not exist for me

but you are a soft touch on a cold afternoon
and you've heard me say your name in a tone no one else has heard
and you took away my pretend innocence and replaced it with pretend experience

and your hands left impressions on my skin I will never show anyone else

and you feel as good as any misguided fantasy

so stay.

It's here,
Across her gaze.
Under the flora,
The grey grim murk on the perch.
The swallow song no longer heard
Over rap-racket from the stereo,
Hardening ear lobes.

It's here,
In the shallow pits of the room,
Where one wallows in part-pity
And shameful surrender
To the mic’s mild embrace.

It's here,
Hiding in the hollow,
Glaring wistfully into nothingness,
Gliding in undulating vistas
Across light and dark
In the dark and light of head-space.

I hold the rim of the coffee cup,
Clasping tightly until it drops
On her clammy clad,
The iris eyes me dangerously.

My final resignation.

Now I am here.

How can we be so close,
And yet you don't feel the need to consume me, to touch me?
I begin creating constellations
Out of the freckles on your arm
And I take sips of bitter coffee,
As I remind myself,
That our love is temporary,
And that one day I will be waking up
To the empty cries of the wind,
Rather than your drowsy eyes.
You tell me that you'd do anything to make me smile,
But I doubt you'd wait long enough,
To see the crease around my eyes form.
I want your words to resonate across my whole body,
But do you?

tick tick tick tock
blood drips down from the hands of the grandfather clock
slowly surely
time stops for no one

swift motions
tide notions
bottle slips, add more to the potion
overdoses
sinking
the bottom is where we collide with ourselves
a realization
the prison in which we have been stationed
no metal bars
no space confinement

blood soaked sponge
only frozen mouths
staggering steps, a drunken lunge
incarcerated swollen minds

these green eyes hide weapons of mass destruction
those green eyes could ****
targeting ones own skin and bones
at the girls will

The lullaby
That's she played
On heart strings and razor blades
The sound was heard, sweet serenade
The girl was her own hand grenade