"This.
This is what I'm defined by.
This is who I am.
And come Hell or high water,
If I deny it,
I deny everything I am.
Everything I stand for."

Sometimes, writing is just
Ink on a page, splashes
Of black
On white, shadows cast
On light, something that tripped
And fell
Just happening
To form patterns
We recognize.
Sometimes, writing is
Different,
The ink - which never changes -
Mind you -
Seems to shine,
To leap beyond
Its page,
Like the sempiternal clouds
At the root of
The waterfall,
Tactile
Everywhere at once,
Obscuring your vision,
Causing your skin to
Bump,
And Prickle,
All the while
Filling your ears
With the white noise
Of water.
It's when writing is like that,
When it seems to breathe,
Where you might read it once,
Twice,
And between readings,
The meaning changes,
Somehow.
The writer's pen
Has been left behind,
Still the story lives on,
Like it should,
Like it deserves,
And sometimes it's a vast novel,
Sometimes
It's a poem,
With three lines,
Five
Seven
Five
And yet, for all their differences,
They are the same: Two
Living, breathing, scintilla
Sharing
Ink-and-paper
Heritage.

Shut
Both
Eyes
And
See
With
Other
Eye

I cannot even
Begin to tell you how much
I've missed our friendship.

You were red,
I was blue.
You turn lilac whenever I'm near,
Then red violet when you talk to me.
I turn teal when you smile,
Then uncertain as indigo when you call my name.
Then yellow came around,
You turned orange.
I turned green.
Whenever you're with me I turn you brown.
Now I disgust you.
Now I ***** you.
I strip myself of the hues I've made.
Now I'm just black.
Devoid of anything, of anyone.
Of us, of you.

No, I don't think you understand
When I say I want you
I don't think you understand
When I say you're my favourite

The way your skin feels on mine
with your fingers holding tighter
Like you're positively struggling to not eat me alive
Like you're breathing the most intoxicating air

I don't think you understand
When I tell you to tell me secrets
I don't think you understand
When you show me that little piece of your hidden side

The way I melt cell by cell
The way I beam like headlights on a deer
like the sun of my universe has lit up
Because I've never had a flavour like you

I've never tasted anything like your lips
I've never heard anything like your voice
I've never been hit so hard, like a match on its box
I've never been lit on fire like this

No...
I don't think you understand
When I say *I want you

Hope
Rises
Like
A
Phoenix
From
  The
Ashes
Of
Shattered
Dreams