Haze surrounding his trim silhouette, his eyes - the day sky
before an Arizona sunset.

Michigan backstreet-bad boy,
an American classic- tattooed.

His voice , the lustful drawl
in all life's rhythm & blues.

"True Love"*, you wear your heart on your sleeve
with an arrow through it.

In your gaze,
I gain control.

And in your magnetic touch,
I lose it.

Ponds upon your frozen face
Snowflakes catch in the reeds
Waves frozen, miles high
Steam geisers as you breathe

A smoke to take the darkness away
Blacken your lungs instead of your heart
And although you stray, miles south
Love, we are never truly apart.

tired head resting upon crisp, clean
white linen pillow cases.
worn muscles enveloped
in the hills and
valleys of plush, cream bedsheets.
aching spine relieved by the firm, comforting pale mattress.

all that is out of place,

is your warm, perfect, lovely,
heavenly smelling, intoxicatingly ****,
more perfect than Michael Angelo
body.

I feel the strong grip, a firm hand around my throat
your words make my sentences choke
I gasp
in search of something
other then these
hellogoodbye
nothings.

Am I anything but just a simple star in the sky to you?
One glistening white night light
among a network of constellations
you've formed within your
galaxy

Fuel my skin with gasoline
light up my mouth up with nicotine
let the record play, take advice from Cobain

It's better to burn out, then to fade away

I was born, to die in flames
a black-hole heart eruption,
my soul will combust
until I am nothing
but a faint trail
of space dust.

"undress my heart with your mind,
fill the spaces within myself I've worked so hard to hide..."

I sadly stray from the warm stronghold
to walk the path through barren wasteland,
biting winds,
and freezing cold.

stripped of any protection,
led naked and astray.

the snow grows deeper,
as I walk through endless night
searching for the break of day.

but,

I never find it.

closing my eyes, I give my soul to the climate

far beyond my control.

retreating deep within myself,

I no longer feel the cold.

~
Solemnly

still is her body,

sealed shut

are her eyes

as the horizon crests

the snowy peaks

to reveal

its first sunrise.

we pick flowers because we like them displayed how we please
not how they truly grow.
what gives us a right to stop their life?
to watch them slowly droop to a wilting death
for our own personal pleasure.

so, let's blossom and sprout our small vines
and maybe we'll intertwine along the way.
we'll sustain as long as we can in this vase
as our petals slowly fall away.

and our water in dry, and our stems shrivelled up.
I'd rather die with you, two withered blossoms
than be the one who decides
which stems to cut.

Day by day


The aches fade away


Every so slightly


Everything gets okay


Everything will be okay


One day

The snowdrifts still cloak the exterior of natures *****; an impediment to the absolute euphoria that romances my soul whenever I am able to savour the enchanting glow of a incandescent burnt amber sun,
in all later months.

The wind, however vicious with its long lashes of seizing air currents, whispering through the crack of my window, straining the chimes in a chorus
of improperly tuned instrumentals; it all coincides with the atmosphere,
my dear.

I swear I hear voices in the streets, faces in odd places, arms around me as
I sleep.  I ponder over what you type to me, as I lay within my sheets. You are just so different than any I've seen before; a teacher- oh! a gorgeous professor,
to you I am a chore.

Petite, little me cold as can be ...
searching for a wee bit of company. Take a coffee or a tea and stay for a while,
write a song with my name in it
and make me smile.

Teach me the lyrics, and I'll sing the harmony. Strum through the hammer on's
& pull offs, let me take over the melody. Evergreen & blue eyes, we stare into one another for eons,
absolutely mesmerized.

Yet now, you are deaf not blind.

For you never hear my soul, each time you recite a verse.

You- the distant temptation, and this dreaded February curse.

Trying to be creative with someone looking over your shoulder, even while that someone is giving me a massage is distracting;
nonetheless,
he says he's not looking
but he's too good at lying to me
he always knows what to say

even when I don't, like today.

Ouu
my shoulders tense from school and work
he raises the pressure in his palms and fingers
rubs me right where it hurts.

And though sometimes,
it seems like nothing could ever been worse than this-

like now, when he interrupts my train of thought typed out on this keyboard, his loud rap music blaring through his supposedly topline headset, Grand Theft Auto 5 on the screen.

Angry lyrics spat through the canals of my ear and continuing their defiance, the intense beat on my drums.

The loudness from the slightly broken silence,m
stills my thoughts too a low hum.

and so,
I have lost my- was it my train of thought
or inspiration?
thanks alot

******* *******.

we find
in time that
nothing really changed
it's just rearranged
the same picture
painted a thousand
different ways.
in our core,
we stay the same.
falling back on
old habits,
nursing old insecurities
to reiterate the
sad truth
of each of our realities.

oh to be free of
such a human condition
to be free of such
thoughtless repetition
and maybe,
I'd be more mindful
less heartless
in my decisions.