Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass,
jagged on the edges
and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up.
I see pieces putting together something greater.
your water color freckles,
splattered over pale skin.
I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes
and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more.
there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes,
the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising.
you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter
a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood
blackness blurring the edges around you
from being left too long in the developer.
your lips feel like oil pants,
sliding over mine like a blank canvas,
I can still see the masterpiece you made me into.
I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.

I look at you and I am looking
at fireworks
Bright, blinding and fascinating
But my eyes are wide open
And I'm not interested
That you're way up in the sky
Unreachable
Everybody's looking up
like me
But not everybody's sick,
like me,
of watching bright colors unfold
of watching you ***** perfection
like it has to be gotten out of your system
because it's already too much
even your body can't handle it

Let me put it this way
Imagine all the butterflies
that rested their own chaos in my
stomach

is there a scale that exists, like the richter scale,
that shows how you shake up my world like
a cocktail shaker, where my heart is a liquid
conforming to the shape of the container,
and you stir up a storm inside of me, lock
me up in a cage in the midst of the storm,
and let me stay in here until the wind wears
me down until i am little more than an itch
on your back, an empty ***** bottle, a burnt
out cigarette, a tear on your sleeve, or the
remnants of the candle i lit in hopes of you
seeing the flickering flames inside of my skin
signaling help from the burn out, and now i'm
hoarding piles of dust to find remnants of you
in the ashes. i'm hoarding the rubble from the
earthquake you put my heart through, hoping
to find some flickering flame in the midst of the
chaos. i'd scale this earthquake at a nine, not
exactly pinpointing my pain scale at a ten, but
close enough to destroy everything in it's path.
when i stare at you, i see an earthquake and i
see the hands building foundations. it would
be the biggest honor to have my world shaken
and stirred by your very presence.

- kra

I've lived along your open skin, cheek on your back as I breathe. My face dances in the depth of your spine. I forget the silence that sweeps a moment like that.

you are a house
made of flesh and bone.
throw rugs of blonde
on a hard wood floor.
only two windows,
that are usually closed.
your door
never fails to open
when I need it to.
your nerve endings
and veins
are the tangled bedsheets
on the floor
with our clothes.
you are a house,
made of bruises,
and cat scratches,
a house
with a fireplace in your chest,
coaxing people in
when it's cold.
You are a house,
but you are not a home.

i want to inhale
your exhales
and kiss you until
i can't taste blood anymore

when you feel as
useless
as a white crayon

all you have
to do
is to find
that someone

who prefers
black paper

Its wild in here

yet so peaceful

your love has made a forest out of me