You say you miss my everything
“I crave you when I’m gone”,
You say you can’t articulate
I seek to prove you wrong

I find the book of poetry
You lent me at the start,
When ‘we’ had been a fantasy,
Before you stole my heart

This time I would read slowly
I’d savor every line,
And taste them on my fingertips
They aged just like fine wine

I am your rose and you, my sun
My light, my fire, my highs
Without you I wither,
And, with you, I rise

Disappearing like the sun
with captivating grandeur
Igniting the atmosphere
and gilding silhouettes

Gradually, then suddenly
(everything goes cold)
Fleeing from my life to leave
the bittersweet aftertaste

My soul did not burn with
The passion of anger or grief,
It stifled like a flickering flame
in the stir of his very existence

I remember smiling at the grass
on the knees of my faded jeans
And later scrubbing the smoke
out of my hair and skin before bed

That day when you patiently taught me
to throw a Frisbee across the yard
And ate peanut butter on s’mores
because we forgot to buy the chocolate

Sure it may seem insignificant
Each detail I remember so clearly
But four years later this still remains,
My residual joy from that summer

My only wish that had ever been
granted at a bonfire in July
Where 10 imperfect misfits found
They were perfectly combined

Between rough choking sobs, I cried
This Life, it moves too fast
and bad things happen
For no reason at all
Where is peace in this big mess?
My gentle father stopped and thought,
Brow furrowed for a moment

He leaned in and whispered, listen
to the chaos of nature and life
You are the world’s conductor
creating symphony from the plight

minds all get mixed jumbled
lost on these dark days
when gloomy, slate heavy
clouds hug the valley,
hush the town
in damp towel gray

tingling nerves spark
against hand's naked backs
shoulders mossy in the cold
the rain seeps down
my spine in my chest
I can feel us growing old

I'm happy when I’m surrounded
by personalities and voice
Each one full of perspective
Unopened book, an open choice

Tonight I think I will paint my thoughts
And slick black cynicism on each nail
Wondering while they dry
How many poems titled Love
Written but never finished
And how many children actually use the white crayon
In the box of 63 other choices
With a sharpener on the back
I am that ****** white crayon
And my own box of 24 wouldn't last a week
Because I always used the Sunshine Yellow
And never touched the Cornflower Blue
That transparent, cold, doctor's office blue
But I regret it now
Because I know how that **** feels

On Tuesday, my silly mind
raided its cluttered drawers
For a scrap of reason as to why
she won't deserve
a sunset hour by your side
On this or any Friday

I am a meal
At the mouth of an ocean
Disappearing along with the tide
Arms and legs devoured by teeth
The enormous blue giant inside

I struggle to regain footing
As I'm rapidly carried away
The icy waves an electric shock
Stealing me with their sway

In the distance, the shore
She stretches astray
dissolved into deep
and sparkling waves

However, out here
the water is soothing
I’m floating on liquid sky
My mind is clear
my body numb,
my panic, I’ve forgotten why

I let myself slip into the darkness,
like sheets on summer nights
Sweetly surrendering to the sea
Forgive me, I quit the fight

Lovely... is the sound of humming
smooth bass notes through the air

Lovely... is that certain scent
of clean laundry and his hair

Lovely... is the blush of my cheeks
every stupid time he winks

Lovely... is the copper silk my hair
resembles, he thinks

It's not that I don't want to write
It's that I don't want to write
What you want me to write
Because they are your words
And not mine

I write what I love
And I love what I write
[sometimes]

I take the things I like
And I write until I like things
But not tonight

Not when I am required
To follow this prompt
And I didn't read the book
Because I read a book I liked
Instead

Enormous shadow sweeten beneath storm
Then cold always have Monday
Light flood and drink dress in soften moon like
Love ugly at shine be foolish

Warm symphony morning
Trust every dream
Who would ought he must
Sleep
Scream run

Spring have frantic ease but
Bare when with together smooth sea
Cool through delirious leave

Slow fast river soft cold