There's one thing I'm scared of. It creeps around in my veins ..at night it crawls into my rib cage and makes a nest, only to colour my cheeks a bright red the next morning. It makes the birds outside my window look like they're winking at me ..and the clouds become more artsy than should be allowed. There are some of you that welcome it...you call it love...I call it my bane....poison. noah_arkenswagg

In a drop of you, I lost an ocean of me.

Heat. Sweat. Heavy warmth.
A puff of Summer's hot breath
Drives sleep from my mind

We had no need to speak
Had no need to talk
To eachother
To every other
Like children chasing kites
We think our words are dragons
that spit fire
so we keep them to ourselves,
fearing and aching

But one day,
The ache will go away
Our thoughts will become bigger than us
and we will use them as our shields
The kites will fly away
The dragons will die
Words shall remain
And we will tell them to eachother

his hands sketch my edges, down
tracing the dips and curves and swells
his fingers curl into my skin, soft
where ever skin is found

burning with every seconds past
longing for his touch to last

his hands feel through me
reaching soul deep, he breaths
in holy serenity, feeding me solely;
his masterpiece

In the middle of the night
as the breeze soothes the mind.
A lonely owl steps out to the light,
leaving his nest behind.
The moon shines
and the wind blows.
A nightingale hymns
while the gaslight glows.

Nocturnal creative artists at work.
The night fuels their quirk.
Then a sudden cacophony disturbs the air.
A noise no one can bare.
From a distance it can be heard.
It whistles, but it is not a bird.

It slows as it reaches its destination.
Breaking through the peace with its whistle.
The train stops as it reaches the station.

Like beads are the years
that we string to make our lives.
Many times choosing the forms, weights, colors.
More often taking whatever is offered or found.
Your necklace seems of pearl
light and smooth.
Easy to the eye.  
Mine, a patchwork of random creation.
Here, harmony.  
There, mismatched and oddly combined.  
But not unbeautiful.  
A strong string runs through the middle of the two.
Faithfully bearing the uneven weight
and the growing heaviness
of our ever-filling lives