I search for you, in all the patterns of the skies
In all the single ways the sun melts within the
Ashes of the night,
The way your hair would melt into your eyes, and the way you’d
Push it back
The way your laughter carried through the canopies
Of your chest, the place where i buried my home, and the way you’d
Push me back.
And my thoughts seeped between the crevices
Of your ribs, and yet you still felt so empty.
My thoughts are now left with me.
And the violet hues cut through the sky,
And the lines I write cut through me.
Why is it that I have never written a poem
For your beauty, your intellect, your smile,
The way you dance within the sunlight,
Your hair breaking from raven to honey to the
auburn hues of an autumn moon, and melting
As you twirl each strand within your hands,
each lock glistening like the northern lights.
Why have I failed to capture your eyes
into words, for they behave as prisms would,
Separating each nuance of sadness into the simple
Joys of life and light
And softly spoken
Why have I never written love sonnets for the girl who
Sits in the corner, smudged ink and coffee stains
Coding the language of her books, as she
Writes love sonnets
for every boy
her self worth.
Why is it that I have failed to love myself
I will delete the pictures, delete the messages, delete the entirety of the reasons I fell in love with you; I’ll delete the poems, the late night whispers, the kisses, the print of your fingertips marking my body, delete the tears,
the nights I spent alone wishing you were here,
crumbling beneath me,
dismantling the pain,
melting the mornings and nights into subdued shades of dusk
where between twilight hours
you’d gaze into my eyes and find the stars and the sun
I will delete all evidence of my heart breaking.
I kiss you with her lips
And you kiss me with his
Our empty hearts
Born out of solitude
Reminisce within the shadows of
and you can't find her in mine
Under your heart, I undressed the covers of your
Soul, your eyes marked with lust
My feminine form,
The contours of my figure edging the
Lines of your mistrust.
Under the covers, you undressed the canvas of my
Body, my eyes marked with love, and
the warmth between us
left me afloat, barely hanging
She understood that she fell in love with
Because he's always changing face.
He mastered making masks
So he never had to face himself.
Found in my drafts.