.
                                   M
                          a      a s       a
                        s         t u         s
                       t          r b           t
                      u         a    t          u
                      r         e     M         r
                      b         a     s          b
                       a         t     u         a
                        t          r   b         t
                          e         a          e
                               •     t       •
                                     e

Lost within the fear.
One too many times now.
I can feel my heart slowly,
breaking into a million shattered dreams.
In between irratic palpitations and bursts of nervous energy.
Of course.

I think my soul is ascending to its purest form.
It's both terrifying and beautiful.
Almost like I'm dying and living simultaneously.

For every step I take,
I can feel my feet slipping
back three.

I'm at the end of my rope.
But my noose isn't even tied yet.

Living in a snow globe.
Watching life around me blossoming,
beautifully.
But when I try and reach out.
My hands hit the glass and stop me dead in my tracks.

i can't stop thinking of your hands. everything is spilling through the cracks of my fingers like hourglass sand. i can't take control of anything, it's no wonder i've always hated driving. the words on the page are starting to blur and i can't seem to get my eyes to focus because all they can see is your name. this year in psychology i learned that we choose what we want to listen to, that we shut out everything that doesn't seem important to us and it makes sense now that i don't hear anything unless it rhymes with your name.

She was the unfinished puzzle
She was the guitar with broken strings
She was the meadow stripped of green
She was the crooked table of support
She was the inner voice of reason

She was the dream forgotten leaving a shadow of frustration
She was the rush of a fresh storm promising heavy rain
She was the ever-changing bricks in a decaying building
She was the wrecking ball extinguishing it from existence

She was the heaven-sent false prophet
She was the flower ripped from its stem
She was the blank pages of a neglected book
She was the dust covering all abandoned objects
She was the frustration in desire

She was the locked door
She was the vacant room
She was the thought with no voice
She was not love

A fresh rose
Crumpling into
A closed fist

No more will I whisper my pain into storms in the hope that the thunder will hide the sound of breaking.
No more will I wonder at the beauty of death and its promise of release, the monotonous metronome of blood dripping onto tile nor how it would feel to slowly swing, my life ebbing away as my eyes wonder at the stars they create.
No more will I swallow the oblivion prescribed, I will not allow the erosion of my soul any longer, I refuse to become any less than this.
No more will I question my existence  within a monochrome world while all around others glory in rainbow hues.

I alone am the captain of my destiny.

There is beauty here should I choose to see it and I have turned my face away long enough.

Oh how she shimmers
made from the glare of the morning sun
she passes through my world in the briefest instant
My breath captured forever within her deep blue stare.
I can only watch as her dress skims her honeyed skin,
her scent, forever lingering amongst the breezes and leaves
will always stir my soul to sing.