I have discovered myself through the pieces of poetry.
My soul is scattered
across a field of
words.
Worry and doubt rain from the heavens
and nurture poems.

The darkest days bring the best poems.

And now the sun is out.

And a field of flowers
is here
to greet me.

Was it worth rain?

I cannot answer that.

I stare at my field
and wonder the same thing
over and over again.



Was it worth it?

Her beauty cascades like waterfalls,
in blooming waves of curls upon her back.
Hair, black as night, bouncing to the beat of her soul.
She was the kind of 'different' beauty,
they never taught us to love in school.
So we burned the textbooks,
and I watched her plaid skirts and hair,
surf the waves of the wind,
and neither of us looked back,
as we ran from it all.

Emotions wash over me like waves,
sandy imprints
left in my memory,

Of that one summer day
where we broke the rules
like seashells snapping
underneath our feet.

We blind ourselves
from the blazing sunny truth
just for a while with sunglasses.

We can take them off anytime,
but prefer to keep them on.

Sipping on sadness soda,
but enjoying every bit of it.

Darling, leave your shoes at the door,















there's no room for that sand in future's home.

She was moonlit skin
wrapped in the silence of the night
with dew drops for eyes
and a soul
made of wet earth.

I woke up to the sound
of moon on my skin
and velvet on my lips.

The scent of pine cones
will always
smell like
a memory I lost
long ago
of home.

Bathe in the stars,
ineffable beauty,
and cry like the cosmos.
Constellations of your beauty
gather crowds by the thousands
every year,
just so they can get a glimpse of you.

Milky way smiles,
align the planets
just for you.

Bathe and bask
in moonlit glory,
as you are one with the universe,

and the universe's beauty
is one
in
you.

There will be those who scorn the sun
for how bright it shines,
do not allow fools
who still admire sunsets
after berating you
to dim you down.

Your ever flowing grace
I have met
only in stranger's faces
in pure joy
as they enjoy
a meteor shower.

Whoever reads this,
remember...

you are one with the universe,

and the universe's beauty
is one
in
you.

Set me free and wild
and leave me be
maybe I wanna
be alone
but not in a sad way
for a while.

I adore empty roads and the
promises they bring me.

I adore changing sky's
with evening delicacies.

I just wanna be alone
and enjoy it all.

There is something
so wildly broken
about her.

I will plug
my tear ducts
with wine corks.

You have scarred me
with your wings
and left me

for the Devil.

Oh wretched, filthy, witches of thee,
tell me,
am I the sinner you want me to be?

I have longed for the moment,
where kindness turns against me,
and karma
overtakes me.

Years of forgiveness show no purpose,
vengeance is now the only truth I hold,
knife in one hand,
mercy in my imagination.

Drive me to the point beyond repair,
your magicks were illusive,
when I was fighting the spell,
it was draining me of 'nice' energy.

Your goal was never to **** me all in oneself.
Oh no,
A goal I could not see,
It was to drive me to broken glass
shards of pain
against melancholy skin,

oh,

it was... it was to make sure my anger was not relieved after it was gone,

b
u
t

to make me regret it for the rest of my days.

My blood still boils like your cauldron,
I still regret,
that I let
thee witches
push me
over
the
edge.

He called her Holy,
untouched,
but in the way that
a wolf would call out
its prey's name.

He howled it;
before
devouring
her.

You will never be able to buy satisfaction with words.

I want religion wrapped in flesh.

I taste communion wine
and holy bread
when I kiss her.

I watch her bathe in holy water,
as the smell of frankincense and purity
wafts in the steam.

I see her crown
placed gently on the sink,
awaiting the return
of the one true queen.

I hear hymns
when she asks for a towel.

I think to myself
that she is God,
and keeps this from me
like a coy secret
only she can know.

She is religion wrapped in flesh.

I write from my heart,
let the ink be my blood,
this poem is my heartbeat,
and it has lost its rhythm.

I know your aesthetic
better than
I know my own
not because
I choose not to know,
but because I'm
too busy
seeing
everything
and thinking of
you.

I look at her
and see
the beginnings of
myself,
and is that not something
worth celebrating?

Youth is filled with waterfalls,
everything is crashing down,
but at least we look
good
doing
it.