You're a beautiful mystery clad in gorgeous enigma.
You're poetry that looks good in a skirt.

There's an orchestra on your tongue, playing the sound of your voice like a melody I can't forget,
matching the tempo of the drums in my heart
and the broken strings of my violin compliments.

You are a notebook, a yearbook, a sketchbook, a burn book,
every facet of you written in swirling cursive,
rhymes and famous signatures snaking between cinnamon hair and cleverness.

You are a pen running out of ink,
bleeding dry in Barnes and  Noble Moleskin journals,
but that's okay because I have more ink,
and you can borrow whatever you want from me--
store it in the heart you stole if you're bored enough to hunt my words for the pieces.
You have the key already.

You're the first dream of the boy too scared of nightmares to sleep again.

You are the taste of honey and cigarettes on the lips of the first girl that boy ever kissed,
because she was a rebel and he needed a hero
who wore boots instead of Mary-Janes
and band t-shirts instead of blouses.

You are the rose he drew when he was bored,
an outline with potential,
mysterious, entrancing, incomplete,
not yet ablaze with the red of desire
because he was never good at finishing things.
You are a dictionary. Your picture isn't just under "beautiful."
It's under "dangerous" and "witty" and "myth"
because Medusa bowed at your feet next to James Bond and Edgar Allan Poe,
and you're too good to be true anyways.

You are a poem, a telltale heart beating inside a lesson in vengeance,
temporary only because nothing gold can stay.
You've walked past where the sidewalk ends (certainly the road less traveled by)
and come back far more darling than any buds of May.

(You are the paperback novel he read under the covers,
the flashlight only bright enough to show paragraphs,
and every new page unique in shape and form
while the text remains the same.

You are the raw words read aloud by the daring poet,
standing beneath midnight moon,
the power of the throne,
the breath of a whispered promise falling upon the ear,
the warmth of kisses on the cheek,
the passion of all hope there ever was in trust and truth.

You are the fire in lightning,
the sparkle in the snow and the glitter in the rain,
the fierceness of the wind and the gentle, soothing peace,
the blazing chill of winter and the roar of summer's heat.)

But you're still a mystery.
A beautiful,
beautiful
mystery.

"How long are you willing to run?", I whispered.

I opened my eyes and I was in a golden hall with polished edges and echoes repeating a language I could never understand.
There was a tearing at my heart and I knew men with with cruel intentions were on the prowl for me even though I could not see them.
I took off running and crashed through the windows, shattering the glass and giving the echoes something to listen to that wasn't a dead whisper. Maybe they can hear the trees now.

I kept running, leaping over anything that came in my path. I ran up walls and slid down buildings. I felt stronger and faster than those who chased me. When I jumped, the sky seemed closer than the ground.

I suddenly noticed a woman following me. She kept a steady pace, running and leaping with me.
I had a distinct feeling that she meant no harm because I felt something new. Her smell lingered around me.
I ran onto the freeway, bouncing from car to car, running from the invisible men and keeping one eye on the woman.

Time stopped and I was flying through the air.

The sound of engines died away and I turned around to see the woman. She was beautiful. The look on her face was that of determination and intrigue. I pulled her close brought my face to hers. We stared at each other for what seemed like years and though our lips never touched, our eyes spoke of fire and patience. I saw what made the sun glow against the universe in those eyes.

Time began to come undone once more and I had to let her go to keep running against men with blood in their eyes.
But still she chased on and I knew she would be right behind me all the way to the end.

I know she will be...

"As long as it takes...", she softly said.*


-Joshua

Based on a dream. Hopefully you like it.

Certain things about people
Make us want to keep them around
The first thing for me is the sound
Of your voice

I know you’ve
Walked on some coals from hell
You never want to go back
I walked there without my shoes

Your closet is like a rainbow,
just bent a little different
You’re the light source and
The light refracts through you

From your all-back Vans to your
Double beaded pearl hair band
You’re the collection of beautiful and comfortable
That the world has searched for

I know I can trust you with
The secrets of my life
Because even if you file them way
It’ll be organized and clean

When we invest ourselves into something
That offers no retribution
We’re already set up for failure
Aren't we idiots!

It’s been ten years since the stain glass window
I loved to look through
Shattered in front of me
The cuts go deeper than flesh and bones

Am i allowed to be
out of my mind
with sadness,
if  I'm the one
that did the leaving?
because i see you
in every piece of me.
permeating my words,
my thoughts,
my soul.
and i miss you
with every bit
of who i am.
but i can't go back to
sleepless nights,
loneliness,
confusion.
i can't.

Sometimes we pretend to be dead
So that we can remain alive.