1722

Her face was in a bed of hair,
Like flowers in a plot—
Her hand was whiter than the *****
That feeds the sacred light.
Her tongue more tender than the tune
That totters in the leaves—
Who hears may be incredulous,
Who witnesses, believes.

04.35 am
Bon Iver  is playing quietly
For Emma  is set on repeat
I'm hiding under the covers
Music is my sleeping pill
Tonight my mouth refuse to swallow it
So awake I lay
With the drapes drawn
Hoping to finally get some rest
Bon Iver is playing:
'For all you're lies,
You're still very loveable.'
While I pretend that
For Emma is my song
04.53 am

I can't wait to partake in things that make you sick.
My stomach stays high tide.
Stay away from it if you can't swim.
My guts are laid out in patterns;
peaches and fruit flesh stuck to fingertips.

(**** my **** then give me a kiss.)

I can't wait to imitate art contained in this.
Two figures trapped within an unfinished painting.
Four strokes of inspiration to complete the lips.
A splash of white to end it.

it was in the middle of the night

they hadn't seen each other for such a long time
suddenly laughter and old memories came back again
remember the time when it was you and me against the world

everything could have been so different
but they never truely followed their hearts

this night he called her, he missed her, a part of him
he told her the words she wanted to hear, she craved for
this girl was weak and all over again she fell for him

the boy with the green eyes and a beautiful smile
he could be so charming and lovely if he wanted to
but he also had his moments, he was always fighting
it was a battle with himself and he could never win

she wanted back to the times when they were just kids in love
running in flower fields and swimming in the ocean
being reckless and getting way too drunk under the stars

something that we are not
is the thing I always wanted to be

I stare out of my warm sunlit window
Watching the solitary tree stand alone
Incredibly tall and fully grown
Only dancing in the wind with its leaves
So majestic, so at peace
The way the leaves move in such sweet relief

When the seasons change and the leaves start to fall
They begin to change colors and dwindle to to the lawn
I only ever admire from afar
For I am jealous of the lonesome tree
That stands proud and tall

When the tree is ready it says goodbye
The leaves start to change colors and begin to die
They fall with ease and grace
Ready for their fate
How does the tree just let go
Of something it's held onto for so long?
How does it part ways with something
That's grown into it's soul?

I wish I was like the lonely tree
I wish I stood noble and free
Effortless beauty and strength above all
Nevermore feeling small
Able to surrender my demons in a blink of an eye
Never questioning or asking why
Firm and notable
Never used as somebody's pawn
*If only I could be like the lonesome tree in my front lawn