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

She was beautiful, so blissfully ignorant to the turmoil in the world. She encapsulated all the beauty of the earth. Looking at her was like the first time experiencing what love was. The first sun rise, the first rose, the first ***** cat. Her clothes danced around her never really touching her; as if afraid the slightest brush against her tanned skin might alter it in some way. Nature knew.

I was proposed to once,
in an unfinished treehouse,
in his backyard.
The silence that fell between us,
only reminded me that:
we were just a thought.
An idea that tasted sweet
on the tip of my tongue;
but grew sour when I laughed.
And you kicked the leaves in defeat,
knowing that this was a passing phase.
And that saying "yes" wouldn't change
the way a clock ticks.
*The very clock that would be our end.

I still find myself wanting you.

Why is it that I feel so good inside when absolutely nothing is inside of me?

Hazel eyes, Luminous, with a gleaming smile.
My chest, erupting with glee,
just with the fact, that you’re staring back at me.
Love leaps from my heart,
telling me,
We mesh together like a symphony.
Devoted to you forever,
eluding the life around me.
For all that matters,
is if his grasp is around yours truly,
Protected in his arms,
safe from humanity.
I know I have found you,
the one I hold so dear,
Just by the way my heart flutters when your near,
I beg you to stay,
Sweet lover of mine.
For without you,
life would be but a mystery.
I’ll Love you until the end of time,
because you belong to me.

she’s the girl who will remember everything. from your birthday, to the story behind that scar on your left arm, to the number of freckles on your body.

she will love every inch of your body and your soul and even the heart you didn’t know you had.

she will take in everything you have to offer and give you back so much more. so much, that you won’t even know what to do with it.

she will open up the world for you. from books and music and film to things like culture and race and language.

she’s smarter and far more beautiful than she dares herself to show.

and you will love her.

you will love her like you’ve never loved anybody before.

she will level every winter your body has suffered with all the springs her bones have weathered.

and when you go, because you can no longer handle her, she will drown herself in alcohol and drugs and sorrow. and wonder why she wasn’t good enough.

she will refuse to be saved by any other hand because nobody can touch her quite like you.

she will **** herself with loneliness and then resurrect with her own scent.
and then she will do it again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

she will be weak and strong and bold and shy and mean and nice and everything in between.

she will grow. she will grow strong and tall.

and so will you.

and in ten years from now, when you run into her at the supermarket, she will ask about your marriage.

and while you’re there telling her about your wife, who is home with the kids, and your job, she will feel genuinely happy for you.

because she forgave you. she forgave you for walking away and she forgave herself for ever thinking she wasn’t good enough.

she will have realized by then that sometimes life will give you somebody just to watch you break when it takes them away from you.

and she will be okay with it.

and so will you.

but, she will walk away without telling you about her life because she doesn’t want you to hear it in her voice that she still remembers your birthday, and that birthmark on your right shoulder.

and that ten years ago, she had hoped you would run into somebody else and told them all about her being at home with the kids.