you and me both know that sometimes when something's beautiful
you want to touch it, even if you start to burn up
the beauty of that if precious above everything
(remember that time I wanted to kiss you in the rain?
it's like that.)
people never understand me
and I think that's part of the reason
I'm almost too afraid of touching the beautiful thing
for the fear of the beautiful thing being disgusted
by the shade of my eyes as they look at something
so wonderful
it's like smiling when you're sad
why would you smile to hide your feelings?
your feelings are your everything and yet
no one wants to share them with the world
I don't either, but I want to hear everyone's feelings
I want to hold them and tell them that just because
their feelings are lying, discarded on the floor,
doesn't mean that they're like spilled paint
that dries on the art room floor until years later
the janitor ventures in and frees
those hopes and dreams that died right there, on the floor.
I don't want to be spilled paint,
even though I'm already there
the only reason the artist keeps me around is too
comfort those aching paintbrushes and to
make sure they keep themselves neat and orderly.
You can't have paintbrushes having breakdowns when you're an artist, can you?
only paint can calm the paintbrush but why
would you make a paintbrush continue the same
miserable way if the paintbrushes only wanted
to paint in black and white
and I am a dark blue,
as dark as the ocean, but not like the ocean.
i want to be like the ocean.
too beautiful to touch, but touching everything.
how are you like the ocean?
I want to know how to be like the ocean
which has strength to go on everyday
breathing air into someone's lungs who hasn't breathed
by themselves in years.
everyone needs to breath sometimes,
so keep breathing darling
in and out is the constant cycle of the ocean,
and your breathing.
maybe it's not the ocean I want to be like,
i just want to be beautifully dangerous to hold you
at 5 am when you're breaking down and I don't know
what to do.
when you can't breathe those beautiful breathes
I want to be strong enough to pump the life back into you
I'll work through the night pushing you to live, for me
but then I'll wake up in the morning and realize
that you were never there in the first place.
just wisps of my wishful imagination floating through
the night sky.
anything can happen during the night air,
including finding a beautiful dangerous ocean to love.
perhaps one day I will wake up and
the beautiful ocean struggling to breathe won't be
a strike of imagination and you'll actually be there next to me.
but for now I'll be wasted paint on the floor.
if I can't have an ocean to love, I will be wasted paint
to help the paintbrushes paint a beautiful photograph of dangerous
oceans with beautiful, crashing waves.
I hope that they will all remember it when the world has
faded into dust and the only thing left is that
picture burning a whole in their minds and they, too
slowly fade into dust.

remember that time
I played your music instead of sleeping to keep
me from screaming at the flecks of dirt inside my mind
that remind me more of myself than anything
your music reassured me that I was alive and able to breathe
in and out, slowly, to the notes of the song
to the notes of the song that reminded me
that I was worth more than a boy
I'm worth more than a boy that uses me just
to have a laugh and tells me I'm hot when I am ice cold
and hiding in alaska because I don't belong in summer
when he's there looking for more snowflakes to burn
you shouldn't burn snowflakes,
all they want to do is fall quietly
they want to fall but they don't want anyone to see how
they fall or what they're falling on, becuase they
fall into oblivion before you can notice
well usually they do, but sometimes a boy will catch them and burn them
so he can laugh and make himself smile the only way he knows how to.
it's hard to make yourself smile if you're him and don't understand
the nature of snowflakes.
but your music will pull me down a road
i'll walk along it happy to forget about the tears I had just cried
and I'll stop at all the potholes admiring how they line the road
and all the grass growing in the little cracks
the yellow lines breaking them all up
did you know that roads are like arms?
they carry suffering with them and are
scarred in ways that is both natural and unnatural
they're essential to you and I's relationships
yes, our relationship is built up slowly by roads and arms
inching us closer and closer until we are too close to touch
and all I can do it look at your face and wish that
you'd noticed how the roads are like arms
and how they'd both made our relationship as real as it can be
(which is to say, as real as my heart or as real as your
gorgeous eyes that I can see as I stand this close)
I wish I wasn't this close, I wish I was close
enough to touch, to hold you in my arms and kiss away your
tears that are sure to be there sometimes, maybe
you could even hold me? you did say that
you were better than the boy who burns snowflakes
but that doesn't mean I am better than just a snowflake
that needs to make that boy happy before he does something
stupid to himself and I blame myself
perhaps it is best if I let him? it's only one snowflake
among one million, what do I matter compared to the life of one
boy who's life has gone terribly wrong and the only release he
has is burning snowflakes that aren't worthy of kisses?
besides
it's not like you would
really miss the way
the roads and arms built up the hope that
you could someday love me because
we both know that's not the case
because you're somewhere far away playing your guitar
and thinking of beautiful girls who resemble
the fairies and mermaids of disney movies
while I only resemble an ugly stepsister who
tries and tries to get the guy
but falls short because the
shoe is too short and she is too selfish
to even care that it belongs to another.
and you, you are peter pan
you are everyone's dream
why would you even look at me?
this writing is rambling
it means almost nothing but the words keep coming
and I can't stop them because I don't know what to say
so I say everything.
and I am a rose, but who likes roses?
roses have thorns, and they die
dandelions are beautiful, and they fly away
roses are nothing compared to all those beautiful dandelions that surround me.
now please if you remember anything about me,
from the way I breathe to the way my perfume smells
or the shade of my eye or the taste of my lips against yours,
remember that roads are like arms,
and that is what makes them beautiful enough to have held up our relationship against the tornado.
remember my love, that roads are like arms.

i want to write a poem
and list all the things that haven't broken
in your world
not everything has fallen apart into
those pieces you see all the time
not everything is all tears and blood and heartbreak
because there is so much more
hiding under the surface, that you
are trying not to see
why aren't you trying to see it?
all the smiles and laughter and words
that we shared
what about that time we stayed up until 3 am talking about
that book you like
the one I don't even like
or understand
but 3am is the time to listen to happy things
not the sad things about death and the tears you have
so stop thinking about that at 3am
spend those thoughts in broad daylight
because things will always look better
with drops of sunlight falling on them instead of
tear drops
stop dropping tears on the things that are
already sad enough
you have enough sadness so stop
focusing on the things that make you upset
and focus on the laughs you had
and the smiles you got from a walk through your life
and the happiness that we shared all the time
or do you not remember that?
do you know remember how I laughed with you
how I laughed even though your jokes weren't funny
and no one else was laughing except for me and you
doesn't that mean anything
to you?
don't you remember how I held you through the dark times
and told you that it's okay to be sad
everyone is
but no,
you don't remember how I told you everyone was sad sometimes
you think you're the only one who has darkness inside them
to you everyone else
is just enjoying the sunshine
while you are crying at 3am
what world are you living in?
everyone cries at 3am
they can't help it
the world is so warped and twisted around them that
they try to grin at 3am and laugh along with
the rest of the day
but no one does
all that comes out is tears
tears that aren't fake no matter how much you think
everyone cries at 3am
they cry in their sleep
they cry tears huddled up in bed
they cry on the bridge as they try to end it
they cry as they get the call "it's over. I don't love you"
they cry as their beloved pet fish slowly sinks down into it's tank
they cry as they realize that you don't know that
they cry too.
they cry tears of blood sometimes
or just tears of water that they haven't drank in a month
not everyone shows how they broken they are you know
some bottle it up and try to enjoy the sunlight
but the problem is that then it all comes out at 3am
when there is no light to shine on their problems
there's only darkness to show them what they think
they think they're all alone and that no one cares
enough to check up on them, hiding in the dark
but you can do it all better
you can push past the urges at 3am
and smile instead of cry because
you can do it for them
dive deep under the ocean your tears have formed because
not everyone has to cry at 3am
you can make it.

you think blood is cool, do you?
you glorify people killing themselves as if it's neat
you talk about illnesses because it has no connection to you
when someone's shot you laugh about the murderer
(even when it's babies that didn't have a chance at life yet)
because it's all a story to you
it's nothing that will really happen, will it?
it's not real, it's just a story
from the pages of our history textbook
or the coffee stained newspaper from this morning
because it's not real. It's not real.
do you tell yourself that?
as innocent people died, from our town
a young family, gone
and you laughed and said it was funny to you
how can I get it into your head
that's it's real and painful for some people
but not for you.
and then you turn around, and ignore me when I show
you the sci-fi I love so much,
you never think about anyone else
maybe your gorey jokes bother us too
just consider that we have feelings too
and fears, and tears, and hearts
just as much as you

they told me I couldn't love you
not in the way one would expect
but from snide comments and laughter
the cruely of homophobic friends
not bad people, just confused about what's right

but all I wanted to do was hold you tight
and feel the echo of your bones as we stayed up all night again
in our rightful place together
I never thought it'd be them,
with their judgemental jokes and comments
I thought they would come to their senses
wouldn't they? They're my friends after all
they're not bad people
just confused and with their confusion
the words they produce burn souls and snap bones
they crush dreams and shove people into the dark

it's from the people I know best
the guardians of my own heart
and the keepers of every breath I breathe

but how can they guard and keep my breath
if they can't save my love?
All I need is you, to hold me tight
until my bones break and my tears
are full of blood and happiness

we can guard eachother's breaths until they
slowly run out floating into the lost souls eyes
and staying there forever,
while we lay there with our faces upwards,
a river of our love,
a river that runs red late into the night