i cant forget
the juice of his lips
or
his touch on my hips
my apologies, but
a list full of wishes
brought me to this
reminiscence
of a gentle spring kiss

Heavy breathing
Trembling knees
In the darkness
I could not see

Eyelash to cheek
Hearts heavy and weak
*In the darkness
I could not leave

don't**
ask me what i think about poetry
i never think about poetry
but
sometimes more often than others
words will creep into my skull
and dance around my soul
they'll bicker with each other
and grasp at each others hair
until i am forced to release them
from the damp of my fingertips
and exhale them
like the dense clouds of smoke
that they are

I wanted to be the wind.

I wanted to be the wind flowing through each strand of his hair. I wanted to be the moon, bathing him in my light. I wanted to be his wisdom. I wanted to be the blush in his cheeks. The chill that traveled down his spine and the warmth of his soul. I wanted to be the itch underneath his skin when his thoughts were troubled. I wanted to be his consolation; and his isolation. I wanted to be the blur in his drunken vision. I wanted to be his dreams. I wanted to be his fixation in the night sky and the sweet seduction of his daylight. I wanted to be the plant that he watered with his kindness. I wanted to be the glass that tasted his lips, the breath that escaped his lungs and the oxygen that flowed through his blood. The stardust sticking to the walls of his veins. I wanted to be his lingering melancholy. I wanted to be the tears that once had the chance to live inside his eyelids. I wanted to be every door handle that his fingertips caressed. I wanted to be the saliva resting on his tongue. I wanted to be each and every heartbeat that kept him alive for a moment longer.
Can you understand?
Because I can’t.

I wanted to be the life that he questioned, the life that left him speechless. I wanted to be the information that he craved.

I wanted to be everything.
I wanted to be her.
I wanted to be me.

i miss the way
his fingertips would wash my skin with flames
and how his eyelids
evaporated when i whispered his name.
at night i dream
that he is flowing through my veins
and in the sunlight
i long for a silent brain

his soul aches, and
the swallows guide me to him
when he checks the sky at night
it’s right there where he left it
clinging onto the mist of misery
we’ll dance under the moons breath

we follow each others silence without incentive
i'm impulsive in reaction to pulsating lungs
i could never sacrifice this non-existing moment
tears run through rivers
his lips leak that it’s alright
and that we are flowing

he is an old beginning
whispering wishful words that arch my spine
we are unaltered in time
silk skin crafted by the clouds
open eyelids pierce through chests
he left me lost in a familiar world

it started with

a distorted kiss

intending on innocence

but as he was gazing

my heart lit ablaze and

nothing could save it

but him

I am a rock at the edge of the ocean.*

I am standing.

I am a rock at the edge of the ocean, and I have survived bitter winters, surrounded by frozen waters and melting summers engulfed in the airs sweat. Yet every year without fail I still transcend into spring. I am engraved by each and every form that grazes my surface, and I am still standing.

In the sunlight I absorb rays of temporary hope and in the black of the night I reflect the moons delicate face, with her eyes fixated on the rough exterior that surrounds my soul. I blush with a grey stone coat, overwhelmed by her attention. I fluster, but I am still wedged deep beneath the sand. I am still standing.

I am shelter for all of those helpless creatures underneath who long for safety. I am a gateway for the droplets of rain searching for home, I let them trickle down my spine until they find the mystic blue they have always dreamed of. I am standing for them. I am standing for you.

I am a rock at the edge of the ocean.

I have been touched by its still waters and washed over by its forceful waves, and just when I believe that I am drowning, mother nature guides me above. My granite heart is pounding and I am gasping for life to enter my lungs as I rise from its salty essence.

Realisation occurs, I am still standing.

I have been ignored and admired by passers by, I have experienced love and loneliness. Sometimes my thoughts near convince me that I am crumbling and decaying into the grains below my feet, professing that I belong in the quicksand. But thunderstorms don’t last, and after the thick of it I will remember that I am still standing.

I am not just a rock at the edge of the ocean. I am me and I am you. I am not just standing, I am everything I’ve ever imagined.