Nothing can compare to the feeling of
caressing just blossomed sunflowers.
They reflect their warm gaze upon my cold,
freckled cheeks while their golden hue
searches onward for other souls to bless.
Nothing can compare. Except for you.
They remind me of you and your warm gaze
that always seems to settle upon my eyes.
They remind me of your hands and how they
feel when they’re pressed against my face.
And how our faces press against each other’s while
our lips are safely locked together.
No feeling can compare to freshly blossomed sunflowers.
Except for the feeling I get when I’m with you.
The taste of ***** burns my lips
but it doesn't pain me as much
as the abandonment did when
you broke up with me at 2am
in your city apartment.
I'm a honeybee.
You're the smoke
that has molded me like putty
in your calloused hands.
Once I'm out of the hive
that is my soul, you come
in and steal parts of me
I have a hard time creating
and replicating over again.
It was a sweet escape but it
was laced with the fact
you would only use me.
Why did I let you in?
My heart has held on to you
like an anchor holds a boat.
The current beats against
the bow, over and over,
wearing away the memories
that can never be repeated.
Your eyes resembled the deepest
parts of the ocean. And anyone
that came along to make sense
of them would easily lose their way.
Unfortunately, I fell into the trap,
and I could never find my way out.
I think I realized why
you are the way
that you are tonight.
Once your heart gets broken,
you don’t care or have the capacity
to retain that doing it to
somebody else makes you weak.
I love kissing your lips
until an array of rosy pale bliss
shines along your ashy cheeks
breathes a sigh of relief.
stinging strawberry cuts,
and raspberry colored veins.
If only the shape of your lips
had been as perfect as the
cherry I'm ******* on.
Unfortunately, the golden apple
hue that your soul radiated
was only momentary.
I blossom like a lotus flower,
resilient and strong, I rise up and out
of the muddy waters that have been
holding me down far too long.
I can still feel the bass from your music
vibrate deep within my hollow ribcage
where my heart used to beat.
Sometimes I pretend that your lips
are pressed hard against my collar bones
wishing me well again.
Other times, I dream that your caramel
colored eyes are staring back into mine
with such lifelike severity, that even you
can't remember why you broke up with me.
Sometimes I look back on the past,
where our bodies intertwined like vines,
and our hearts bloomed with ivy.
Your lips -
they parted like the Red Sea,
dripping words blacker than ink
across the blank page
that was my body.
smelled of vanilla,
but rough like granules of sugar
stirred into teacups.
they teased me,
snarling along my ribcage
as if trying to tie flowers along
my weeping torso.
The connection was instant
like a polaroid picture.
But the love was slow
like when a bump turns to a bruise.
And it faded, too,
just like all wounds do,
love does too.
Your smile favors the right side of your mouth
while i favor the left,
so i can trail kisses along your
jawline and back down your neck.
The idea that your heart is a galaxy
that can love infinitely is one you may
only find trailed along the pages
of a philosophical novel meant for the
scholars of an alternate universe.
Point the barrel at me.
Let me see my future
unfold right before my eyes
as you pull the trigger.
You killed me.
My hair is an untameable wave that cascades
down my back and is an even flowing river that drapes
onto my shoulder blades and biceps.
As I sit in the swivel chair waiting for the scissors to
shear off the last dead ends, I think of you.
With these ends, you'll be disappearing, too.
You haven't touched me in over two years, now.
As wisps of hair drop off onto the tile below my feet,
I can be rest assured that a new beginning has dawned.
Stars only reflect
the inner most desires
burning to escape.
Freckles dot the lined
curvature that is
Simple brush strokes
on the canvas that
is my body
shape the path
of my veins.
They're similar to a map,
leading you to many
If you get lost,
just look into my eyes.
They’re the landmark that
will help guide you
You look at me
like you’ve seen God.
Your eyes are the greatest
depths of the ocean while
I’m afraid to wade up
to my waist on the shores.
It’s as if every care you
have in the world has been
replaced by your sudden
desire to touch my lips.
I know your heart is a storm,
but it thunders to know the sun again.
Take a photograph,
Let it develop slowly,
Patience is virtue.
It’s been a long time
since the book in my hands
had a cracked spine.
And it’s been a long time,
since my hands traveled
the distance along yours.
And then I saw it,
At dusk, beating its small wings.
A guest from heaven.
My grandma passed away a few weeks ago, and today would've been her 88th birthday. She loved hummingbirds. I saw one today, at dusk, while talking on the phone with my aunt. It felt like a sign from her that she was okay, and that's she with me.
I never expected the attachment.
It came at me quickly and hit me
defenselessly from behind.
I was on my knees struggling to
rid the feelings I harbored.
It felt like the secret need I have,
to keep my favorite sweater hidden
away in the closet so it’ll never get ruined.
My heart felt heavy containing the
new information of territory uncharted.
I was expecting the unexpected,
until the expected got the better of me.
Sadness has a taste,
It's bittersweet, a soft bite,
It makes you crave more.
Stark shadows haunt me,
dark lies shudder and sweat blood,
maybe I'm alone.
Everything was black and wet,
there were bubbles,
the field was boiling.
Through the windows,
you'd just sink into it.
"Loosen up," the lake echoed,
"I'm sure as hell not going anywhere."
A flat-crested hill seemed to dance,
mountains unfolding into higher places
and looking over the lake.
The place was in sorry shape,
plain and simple.
a collision of atoms,
the stardust gathering
in my veins
explosion of my logic,
because it decided
to tell me
that you were
Here I write
a wistful thought
about the past,
as if there's a different
thought one could have
about a previous life's desires.
Here I think
about the times
and the places we have been,
and how there's no going back
except in our memories.
Here I wonder
if you're sitting alone
or if you're next to her again
longing for something different
or sobering up at the fact
you'll never get it.
Our fingers brushed in the gallery opening
not so long ago,
we were in a room full of art,
which only made me crave you more.
It reminded me of your hands,
finger-painting like a child using watercolors
onto my blank canvased soul filling in
every part of me that was missing colors.
Now, everything is in black and white.
When our fingers lightly brushed again,
I felt the flood of rainbows and stars rush back to me
before disappearing behind me, following you away.
The ocean is a tough judge,
granting no one a pardon
for the things they have done.
Sympathy is limited, and
floats on the surface of the waves.
Once you duck underneath,
you're on your own.
My reflection is murky, and
I'm trapped underwater.
My mirror shines the withered
teal tides that wrap my body
in such a way that doesn't feel
too loose or too tight back
into my pupils.
My eyes stare back through
the misty fog layers
trying to dig out of my muddy-
bottomed melancholy soul as I
grip my porcelain pedestal sink.
Dirt cakes underneath my fingernails
from trying to dig you back
out of the grave in which I tried
hiding you in six feet deep.
My hair is a wild,
untameable sea of brown
plastered against my spherical face
from the dreary rain clouds above.
When you left me, there was no
other place to trap the rest of
the memories except in a cemetery
of restless souls and lifeless nostalgia.
They will never see colors as bright
as the watercolor painted sunsets
God has bestowed upon the plateaus
of this shaken up earthen structure...
I was the deep golden
yellow hue of the sun
and you were the cerulean
When we crossed paths and
created an avocado green,
you decided that it made you ill
to see grass that didn’t belong to you.
With each passing day
a part of you in me lessens.
and lastly the little love you showed me
is all disappearing.
someone else has filled your role
and is doing a better job
than you ever did.
It's not pretty, and it's not kind.
It's the stack of laundry you've been meaning to fold,
that has now become an unyielding castle.
And depression is the impenetrable dragon guarding it against entry.
It's a feeling of happiness that drifts in and out of your life,
just long enough for you to think that you're not trapped,
even though your shackles are still tethered to an unbreakable prison.
It's seeing the dust trail gather along your treasures and your things,
knowing it won't physically go away until you do something about it,
but feeling overwhelmed by the sheer idea of sweeping it away.
This is depression.
It's not pretty, and it's not kind.
But it is me.
My heart was an abandoned animal,
and your mouth was an umbrella
that dissipated any storm
ready to shake and rattle the soul
that I built as a home within myself.
You shielded my heart as best as you knew how.
Too bad that the lightning of your words
combined with the thunder of the storms
tore apart your umbrella and electrocuted
any hopes that remained for my heavy heart.
Maybe someday you'll see that the temporary
home you had been was never going to be built out
of brick, and one day would fall to the ground
without so much as a word or last breath.
Water drenched bodies
soaking in the rains from heaven.
Nothing had seemed more clear
in that moment than lips on lips.
Sometimes I wonder why
the passion and intensity burned
hotter than fire, and yet
the cool rain intensified the doubt.
The sea salt no longer stings
when I open my eyes under the waves.
I’ve cried more than enough tears to be
numb and succumb to this endless ocean.
I'm completely submerged with eyes closed
but I dream of your hands pulling me out
of the dark depths and untangling the seaweed
that has wrapped itself around my ankles.
As I gasp for breath when I finally surface,
it's only then I realize how alone I am.
So I dive back underneath the currents
waiting for the undertow to pull me away.
I keep on painting sunsets
with acrylic glaze
that remind me of the fiery
passion we both shared
when we were together.
Some steel blues and warm violets
remind me of the tears I cried
and the jewels you gave to me.
The golden yellow hues bring me
back to the Boston skylines
we photographed together.
Whenever I hear a plane overhead,
I wonder if you're on it coming
back for me. To plead for me.
But I know better than to keep
wishing upon them as if they
were stars granting my desires.
Ocean waves cascade over my body,
drenching me in a refreshing brisk
reality and overwhelming solitude.
When I reach back through the surface,
hair clings to my face, and I clumsily
grab at it before the waves take over again.
The saltiness tastes like a bitter pill,
but I'd take it any day over the pain
you caused while I was with you.
Your last words are still the fuel to my insanities,
and they never seem to run dry.
They're a force to be reckoned with,
and dare I not even try to understand.
"Do we hug, shake hands, or should I just walk away?" I asked.
You smiled that same smile and reached your arms around me,
and you whispered, "We hug."
You told me goodbye, and that was the end.
I never once saw you at the train station,
and I never did pass by your figure in a store window.
You were gone with the wind,
and sometimes I wish
that you had let me go
Flecks of gold stardust
got caught in my weary eyes
and awakened me.
Hands almost touching,
I'm out of my **** mind, right?
How could we do this?
There is something so raw and glorious
about being awake before the rest of the world.
When a new day is breaking through over the horizon,
and the birds are just starting to stir.
The air is a mixture of stickiness and solitude.
The dew lines up on the blades of grass,
wanting to be the first touched by the rays of the sun.
The things you don't realize
when your hearts separate
forever and you never speak
to one another ever again.
The sky is still the same
shade of blue as last February
when we kissed in your apartment,
teasing our fingers in each other's
hair, while your roommate
listened to us on the other
side of the door.
That tiny place still exists in
Boston where you left it,
even though your heart is
now in Seattle with some
new girl you just met.
I mean, I hope you're happy
wherever you are now.
With whomever you're with,
and doing what, or whom
you love so dearly.
I'm no longer the burden
that worsened your heavy mind.
I just wish you'd realize that
my heart never left your
tiny studio apartment on
the outskirts of the city.
being weighed down
by the words
I’m too afraid
to say to you.
A castle made of glass, and
I'm surrounded by cutting glaciers,
and rocky tumultuous mountains.
How does one break the thinly
veiled tension that's so thick you'd need
a knife to cut it into pieces to serve to
others at your table?
I'm going to continue to spin
in circles, staring at the sky right before it rains.
I'll also trace my toes within
the opague veil of sand covering the fields
and marshes containing various
sea birds and rotting meadow grass.
The cake doesn't taste the same as it did
at noon in your apartment while we sat
naked on your countertops taking turns
feeding each other the frosting with our
fingertips laced with chocolate sprinkles.
The end was inevitable, but the destruction
of our love I don't think I was prepared to face.
At least, for my passionate and aching soul,
the calm after the storm finally arrived.
I can finally look at myself
in the mirror without your figure
standing behind me observing
my every detail and every flaw.
I'm thankful to say I have
moved on from you entirely
and that your presence no longer
intimidates my inner being.
Sometimes the past comes
and its earth-shattering sound
vibrates through your skull.
Your eyes are the lanterns
that bring me out of the
dark forests within myself
that I seem to get lost in
time and time again.
Your eyes still haunt
and dazzle my mind's eye,
and yet your presence
is still long gone from me.
My collar bones and spine
are becoming too heavy
for my body to carry on and
act as if I don't miss you.
I feel my ribcage rattling against
my aching heart trying to beat.
My lungs struggle to catch
the last breath we exchanged.
One day I hope to meet you again,
face to face, so I can see that sliver
of guilt that you're holding onto,
and yet, be able to say I forgive you.
Cactus blooming red,
matches the blood in my veins,
Grip tightened on me,
Strangers falling in love now,
is it not over?