because of you
i believed love was attainable,
and that i could be swept away.

but now i know it is as
realistic as that infernal glass slipper,

because everything,
like glass,
will *break.

You make me feel like
always dancing
always touching
always kissing

You make me feel like
always laughing
always singing
always leaning

You make me feel like
I am so close
to love.

we spend all our lives searching for color that we don't realize all that exists is in black and white.
in thoughts and words
through tears and laughter
it's all facing ruins
empty, broken, torn down.
the Mayans once were living
they once ruled a kingdom far advanced for their time
and yet they still were wiped out.
what's meant for us, then, if we can't even see in color.
if everything was horrible, if we only knew loss, would it still seem as bad?
if we believe we're seeing color, but we only know black and white, do we actually trick ourselves into playing along?
maybe one day we'll release our souls into the sky,
fly up up up
and
a
   w
         a
              y
and realize
this entire time we weren't seeing color or black and white
we weren't feeling emotions or experiencing thrills
we weren't living.
maybe then we can start our lives.
it just takes a while until we accept it and go,
takes a while to come to terms with the fact we've been fed lies.
come to terms with the fact we have to go though this hell all over again, except this time it actually counts for something.
this time
it's called death.

soft patter on rooftops
while I stare at the wall
thoughts running miles through my head.
slow down I mutter, but there is no use.
it's 1am but I seem to think I can change my life
defeat the demons reeking havoc through my mind,
conquer enemies in shiny armour.
overall I just think of reasons why I'm a not so good person
or what I need to change.
who I want to die,
who I want to live.
maybe one day I'll rule a kingdom
or maybe one day I'll die alone.
nobody ever thought about the people who manage both.
terrifying thoughts,
but equally satisfying.
it's at this point in the night when I write novels without paper
create stories without ink
flowing masterpieces never to be told
never even to be remembered
except in a fleeting dream
a simple moment
and then it's
g
o
n
e.
almost like it never existed in the first place.
is that what's meant of all of this?
are we all geniuses until someone tells us otherwise and we believe them?
when does it all stop.
when does it slow down.
why won't it slow down.
I just want it to slow down.

You smile over
your cup, the liquid
filled to the brim.
My smile has no
power against
that look; the way
your eyes lock so
beautifully with mine.
Overflowing with
reminiscing thoughts
of our lust-filled
night. The way
we hold onto
each other as
if we were made
for the other.
-JRM

This poem is called Boys are Curious.
Because that's what you told me that day.
And if boys are curious,
My body is a treasure map.

I was an atlas for trespassers.
I had a horizon of hope in these eyes,
And my forest hid lust & mystery like it wanted to be found.
My acreage was pure and undiscovered.

If I hadn't scared you away yet,
I've heard that there was passion locked somewhere.

But because boys are curious,
My edges are creased and torn.
The sun has left me shaking in the cold.
I have been sought by the hands of greed enough times,
I've forgotten where I've hidden my treasure.

So, boys are curious.
He left me a field landmines.

You can have
All of my wishes.
I will bide my time
But I refuse to force myself to want
Something else
Just because I am afraid I will only ever want you.
Right now
You're it
And I am brave enough to embrace that.
You can have every wish my heart aches for.
By giving them to you
At least I've made the choice.
Sweetly
Gently
Tenderly
I wish
For you.