We make love
We make art
We make God

I resorted to writing poems
On pages that have seen all my phases
My beaten black and blue
My perfect ideas of me and you
To avoid your misunderstanding
And take away Pride's power
To choose our ending
Where I walk away
Unchained
and
Unchanged

Like a sculptor
You rub your hands on my skin
Holding all the pieces of me
Moulding my soul with my sin
Shameless,
Seamless art you create
As if,
you
loving me
is
innate

I hope this isn't creepy
But I make love to you everyday
In my head
I prefer falling inlove
From a distance
To look into eyes with wander
And ponder
What lies beneath those seas of brown
Cause really I'm scared to reach in
And have my hand hit the hard surface right under,
To find that those seas are just
shallow puddles

Being with you
was more learn than love
Thank you for that

I keep
figuring out
       who
            I'm
    not

don't use me
as your broom
to sweep up your feelings for her
under rugs
cause every time we kiss
every time we touch
i can feel her coarse dust
rubbing through my skin

Feelings cling to the air
Like unsaid words
As our ghosts slowly fade away
Like the sun set by the coast
An ending of fire
That once burnt bright
Not off
Just hidden
In our mantle
Our egos - our pride

we took "human race"
out of context
and  now our existence
is an internal contest
with ourselves
with each other
and the religious
say it's God's test
survival of the fittest
so run human run
wait, wrong direction
the sun with red eyes
and the stars with blue
WARNING:
THE END IS COMING SOON
run human run
run The Earth to its finish line

I need you
Just for today
I need your
"you'll be okay"
Your
"we'll be okay"
Even though "we" won't sound the same
It won't have the same ring to it
You know,
the lake house and 3 kids to it
But I need you to say it to me
Today

It must be the prettiest lilies
that grow out of mud
to float above
That spread
In the tender hands
Of Mother Earth

Or is their beauty
only noticed
because of the dirt
that surrounds them
the endless dark waters
the dead that feeds them
the tragedy that attempted to bury them
but they use to carry them

Or maybe, their beauty
Is only noticed
because despite their strength
they're touch is still soft
white
amongst the sweet reeds.

Or maybe their beauty comes from lack of definition
Just simply yet in so much complexity
Existing
Breathing, quietly
screaming
"life"

Since i left,
Have your lips turned sour?
Has your voice turned to dust?
Your fingers that once
Had a tender touch
So supple
Turned to daggers
carving through the innocent's chests
In search of even an ounce
Of love?
Tell me baby -
Has your hair gone gray?
Your eyes, a deep red?
Your blood pale and blue?
Has your mind lost control?
Who runs it now?
Who is it that runs through it
Clumsily dropping everything
You treasured?
Everything now scattered?

a typhoon of feelings
dilapidate my thought
and uproot my feet
that once stood in the concrete
I spent years trying to break though
and now
i fall
trying to hold on to any valid meanings
hopelessly

I want to sit cross legged on your rib cage
And write poetry
whilst I listen to your heart beat
echo hope
sing life

I want to walk through your soul's halls
Barefoot
- A museum of things you keep dear -
And hope to find my heart pinned on one of the walls.

I want to lie on my back
On the sands of your mind
Where I have a clear view of your sunset
beautiful
dark
wild
And hope to see your ghost
right next to mine.

She bumped into me.
And everything I thought was together
Each paper, book, pen
                                                             Even I
Fell ridiculously.

She picked them all up.
Gave them to me

And continued on walking.

Love my bark just as my flowers

Cause it gets cold sometimes and I need you to still look at the dead me and believe there's some sort of life within

Be patient.
          
See that strength lies not in my leaves and petals
But in my cracks

Be kind.

When I open parts of me unseen
And exposed are my rings
That have survived fire and storm
Run your fingers through them
Bare the splinters i don't mean to hurt with

Be understanding.

Whisper louder than the wind that shook away parts of me
And make me feel whole as I am

Be love.

Freedom feels
a lot like being lost.

Happiness feels
a lot like being lonely.

And that is why
your love will always feel
a lot like being home.