I had always thought of myself as an artist of some sort. That is, until I met you. It was only then that I learned what art is, where it comes from. When I met you, I only wanted to paint with the browns and oranges I saw in your eyes. I only wanted to write the words that fell from your lips. I only wanted to play the notes your voice guided me to. And when you left, I couldn't paint, couldn't write, couldn't play. I could only sing of my heartache, but even that wasn't art.  There's no beauty in sorrow.

He loved with the cruelty of nature
growing like ivy on my heart;
I'd cut him away but he'd only return

He nestled in my branches
making a home out of my rotting shell,
forgetting home is where the heart is

He said "destruction was a form of beauty"
So he pretended to be reborn a hurricane
Firing open doors better left closed in his wake

At times, it was better to hide from him
Wait out the storm and pretend
everything was perfectly alright

Then when it was all over
He'd kiss my wounds,
grow flowers from my dying veins

But not so long after they would wilt
because even the sweetest of things
couldn't survive within our own toxicity.

you drink to fight off the world
i get high to forget what life has done to my soul
everybody has an escape from what they fear

dragons have dug their talons into me, dragging and ripping away my flesh
leaving new scars

lightning struck you, leaving a beautiful disaster in its wake
a disaster that has altered my view on breathing the air i do

No matter how bad we want it to work
Some things just won't work
We are two different people
You can't fit a square in a triangle
Some things don't fit well together
You can't try to force something that is simply not there

Maybe the way we started made it cursed from the start
It should have not only been physical
Because when we both tried to get emotions involved
Both of our energies collided and went awry

But we both wanted each other
We couldn't stay away from each other
We tried to leave
But we always came running back to each other

We knew what he had wasn't healthy
So we finally parted for good

But I still want you

I wait

for the return
of the warm summer breeze
despite feeling winter's kiss -
for all my stars aligned.

I wait

for the bloom
of the lilies
despite the barren land -
for allmy star s aligned.

I wait.



I truly wait.



for the sound
of your footsteps
despite a love long lost and forgotten.


f or al lm ys ta r sal i gne d.







fo ar il m n ts a rlsa lg  yed.















aro  l sf m yl sla rgs a ni ed

It's been a while
Since I've sat down for this long
Just to write
All the words I can write

They call it a stream of consciousness
But I call it a stream of truth
It's a stream to remember
As it glosses over your skin

Maybe this truth
Will stick around
A bit longer than the sunlight
A bit longer than the nightlight

I don't want my writing to go away
I don't want my writing to be forgotten
I want my writing to stay
I want it to be remembered

A writer only ever wants to stay
That is the mark of a great writer
It's not that hard, to write for a long time
It's pretty hard, for that long time of work to stick around

But don't worry
It's just a stream of consciousness
It's not a hard thing to do
So we will just keep typing and praying for hamlet
To come rolling off our fingers