I summoned the devil
in all the coaxing dulcet tones of a lover
to make a little trade.
He appeared to reply
in something sounding suspiciously like amusement
that contrary to popular belief,
he did not buy souls.
Why, he wondered
would he bother with such trivial humanities?
so I plucked from my chest
the thing in question
that he might know
there are not so many stars in the sky
as neurons firing in my mind.
and I showed him exquisite pain
and deliriously beautiful sadness
anger so searing I shook to contain it
All the things a devil delights in
cannot be felt so deeply as by a soul
that has tasted misery again and again
and lived to wish to tell the tale.
He moaned in half-ecstasy
tones thick with desire
to name my price.
I asked only for peace at last
How cruel!
he cried, not un-admiringly
To make one long for something so desperately
and name a price they cannot pay.
For peace, he said
Can only be found through one's own demons
It comes from acceptance
of one's self entirely; not absence.
So I left,
having wrung good advice
from the devil himself.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

dans une ville de ténèbres
peut-il y avoir de mille feux
de susciter l'espoir ne pas peur

-----

in a city of darkness
may there be a thousand lights
to spark hope not fear

She tries to keep her smile hidden,
To hold it inside of her
For just a moment longer
Before letting it out
All at once.

You don't need to hide your joy from me
Don't keep it locked inside.
Set it free for all to see,
We could all use a little laughter.
We could all use a little sun.

You're so light,
I'll say it again.
You put the sun to shame.
There's no other way to say it.
No other words can express
The way you light up a room
Just by simply
Being in it.

She stretches out her arms
And lets out a sigh.
Before pulling her palms
Above her head.
She's tired.
It's time for the sun to get some rest.

Cue the moon.
He walks in after a long day at work.
He hates it.
He wants wants to quit.
He wants to leave.
But instead,
He kisses me.

You're so smooth,
So wise,
So calming.
You give me chills
The way you shimmer
In the middle of the night.

Your tender lips
Form a crescent
Against your face
As they turn upward
To greet me.

Sunshine can be nice
But I'll spend my nights
With the moon.
I'll see you in the morning
My dear light.

clear blue fabric lines the streets
before my eyes, it is punched through
and then repaired, by warm-colored fingers
of people, standing there, afraid to linger
but their eyes pierce the veil of silence.
I've turned my music down and taken
off my sunglasses to listen to the smell
of light, it's gnarled and frosty and soothing
breezing and ruffling, something a bit too tough
an athlete of a wind, not concerned with me
approaching a higher goal, playing rough
through my hair, content to let it be
but not- at the same time. We
change the world we live in, regardless
of intentions. Flow through my vents
or my windows, I don't care, I
will still breathe you in and inhale your scent
even though I try to drive so far as to leave you behind
the seasons pass, grow, and fade away
I forget the worlds in which we used to play
something in the careless whisper, I can hear the ocean
in your heartbeat. It's a word that you say.
It's you, shaking your hair down, in one particular way.
And it's me, driving and forgetting and learning to give you away.
Day by day. Day by day.

There may be a thorn
In my side, but you have such
Beautiful petals.