That night, it was scrawled in silver dust into the stars,
to brand our names into the sky.

That night, our story was written in the indelible ink of the gods,
and my favorite lipstick, and sealed with an immortal kiss.

That night, we came to life, with eyes that were able to tear
and hearts that could suddenly pump our lives' essence with renewed fervor.

That night, a romantic with an angel's smile
and a siren with a history of self- delusion became one, never to part.

That night, we fell in love.

Memories come to life
in movies cast by furniture,
while my nightlight plays the role
of a projector, breathing life into my walls.
I realize, with a sharp intake of breath,
that my foot is dangling off the edge of my bed 
and yank it back under the covers
that I sleep under, despite the temperature.
When you're little, you're scared of the monsters,
but growing up is knowing exactly who they are.
Everything is so much scarier in the dark.

I cradle the cardboard cup in both hands
And bring it to my face. 
The warmth still lingering on my cheek,
I take a sip and swallow,
Ignoring how it scalds my tongue.
It burns a path through me
As I touch the cool metal of the kitchen counter,
And the caffeine courses through my veins
Never reaching my slumbering heart.

Minute by minute,
The long hand makes its way
Around the sun,
And I count the seconds 
Until I can get out of here.

Three shadows from a distant past,
Each  more solid than the last.
The first I knew for just one night,
His shadow longer than his mind.
The second, more substantial one,
Despite his heart, caused me to run.
The third and last of those above,
The one whom I am writing of,
Is more than just a fleeting dream.
They were three but it would seem
That one to me became more kin
Than those whose words I did not feel within.

We're always balancing on some ledge.
The moment we find a balance,
And catch a breath,
We turn around and, gasping,
Find ourselves on the edge
Of another dark precipice.

Certain ledges threatening my sense of security presently:
1. My bewildering love life.
2. Certain dictators with power over me.
3. The boring, seemingly never- ending summer stretching ahead of me.
4. Fear of conveying false emotions.
5. A unhealthy sleeping pattern.
6. A sense of obesity, coupled with a justified concern regarding different eating disorders.
7. A need and refusal of nicotine.
8. An overwhelming and rapidly reclining sense of loneliness.

Don't speak of ledges.
They're all around you,
Waiting for you to mistake a shadow for a solid step.
Proceed with caution,
For if you don't,
You'll soon wish that you hadn't advanced at all,
But merely remained in the safe tedium
Of the middle of that floor of holes.

Mountain air as sweet as wine,
Stone layers forested in pine;
These are another's words, not mine,
And it is she that they indeed define.

She basks in a light that's all her own,
From newly paved streets to ones of cobblestone;
From her blackest of nights to glorious days,
Halos of holiness blanket her mazes.

For those who love her, she does treasures unveil,
And if you will hear it, she'll tell you her tale:
How she fought for her children, tooth and nail,
So that she could newcomers hail.

You'll hear it in her winds' faint sighs,
Her buses' roar, her peddlers' cries:
How long she's suffered through the false claims and lies
Of the ones afraid to see her rise.