last night;
in an awfully profound night's sleep
i dreamt of dismantling barren roads
that hurriedly flowed down
like rapid moonlit rivers
streaming down yawning mountains

the pint-sized diamonds in the stream
reminded me of sparkling headlights
parallel to busy streets on late fridays
where youngsters in shiny cars
are seen racing for their lives
daringly pacing through bright city lights
looking for parties to crash and burn
for their own delight

the road i assembled from these broken pipes
led me into a bank of crystalline water
brilliant with intense enchantment
i drunk from the lucid spirals on the surface

illusions bewildered my owl eyes
as a spectrum of colors propagated outwards
expanding like a thousand burning suns
when i dipped curious fingers in
the surreal mixture of flourescent light

briefly for a moment
all life shined through with purpose
the serene sounds of the humming river
crashed towards me and enveloped me in kisses
they lifted my head from under the ground
and over the clouds i rose

i think it meant a second chance
was within my fragile reach
somehow i could finally
take fate into my own hands
to rebuild my walls with these feeble joints

my own path to guide me out
this state of repulsion
towards myself
it was a reset button
to start all over
one morning to wake
unbroken and aspiring to believe

maybe your presence made that possible
a four leafed clover
i had miraculously found by the roadside
during those lonely trips taken out of town

you were a starfish dying on the shore
i hoped was waiting for me hold
the one i picked and couldnt decide
whether the sky or my palms
were it's home
and so i kept something
i should have given back
'Oh magnificent Sea, please do forgive me'

but you gave me something
i never thought i had the right to feel
such promise your words resonate
evoking
    images,
memories,
          and emotions
i never dreamt could be mine

though shamelessly stolen from mother nature
regret has lost it's match
claimed and planted deep
you are a budding seed
growing it's own eden in my heart

this inelastic collision of you and i
must have sprung out for a greater cause
that you must have birthed from a shooting star
a conscious meteor of rupturing destiny
purposely aim towards me by the heavens
and i thank them for once

though much of my dream
has spilled out of context
and the seams have frayed out of order
giving up isnt an option anymore
because to know why
you stand here with me
is a buried treasure somewhere
along this map im still plotting the points on for

I feel like lately,
maybe when you say my name,
it doesn't melt in your mouth like honey,
but maybe engulfs your taste buds like bland oatmeal.

When you think of my warmth and love,
that maybe you misplaced the thought of me with another.

Are you still crazy about me?

When I think of you,
its like a warm summer day,
it takes over my skin, warms my cheeks.
makes me smile at the sky and laugh for no reason but being happy.

When I say your name my mouth quivers,
and my chest just wants to explode with confetti,
like you are something to celebrate everyday.
You are the essence of my happiness

But when you talk to me I feel like I am the thorn in the lion's paw,
that I am no longer a luxury but a chore.

You told me that no one wants to be glued to their phone,
that its no fun to be on your phone on your birthday.

What can I do?
You live so far and the only connection I have is this satellite between phones.
I love you so much and I just wanted to do what I can to share that day with you.

If I could get on the plane right now and be with you I'd be there in a heartbeat,
no questions, I'd drop everything but I feel that for you that's not the case.

Aren't you still crazy about me?
Crazy like I am for you?

Why don't you want to talk to me as much as I want to talk to you?
Why am I not on your mind all the time like you're on mine?
Why am I crying over how much I miss just seeing your words on my screen
but you can easily not reply for hours on end?

Are you still crazy about me?
Or am I just this safety net that catches you when you're falling?

Would you think less of me if I told you how much I want to kiss your thighs?
And your hip bones
And that v of skin
Feel the heat of your body that I can’t turn off
Even in the depths of winter,
Your warmth is in every cheek to cheek hug
Every brush of your hand over mine
We could be in the icy temperatures of the north pole and I would still feel a hotness in your fingertips when you pass me another layer
I’m a good girl
But looking at you makes me feel like I deserve a thousand detentions
I hope you know I love you when I think about your skin tight against mine
Your mouth hot on mine
My hands untucking your checked shirt
I refuse to call these thoughts *****
Because your body is so **** beautiful
The muddy soil around a bright flower doesn’t devalue its worth, does it?
I hope you know I think your heart is as powerful as the sun
You’re what burns every piece of wooden structure that holds my body stable
Human jenga
And even though you have no game plan,
You always win.

The deeper you stare into
The flotsam,
The clearer our origin stories
Become:

We are shipwrecks.

Islands
Bro-

ken Like bread and
Doused in
Salted wines.

We are cupbearers,

Slaves
With rusted chains
That dangle
Loosely
From our ankles,

Shrouding our skin from the harsh
Freedom

Sun offers.

Quick steps
hurried
breath
like
frosty
clouds
transparent
between the
stars
where
the moon
once
resided
iced in
heartache
and
sorrow.
Love
is
lost.
No deep
footprints
to guide
it home
and snow
has covered
our lungs
not
a word
uttered
on the
tundra
not a song
sung
in the
northern
lights
where guides
walk
like spirits
transformed
into
shadows
lingering
on
the
edge
of
consciousness.
I scream
a
guttural
call
reminding
me
of
the
animalistic
beast
lurching
across
the
bareness
of my
joy
I accept it
accept
the
thoughts
that
roam
tug
pull
push
****
at my sanity.
I’m no
longer
a
part
of
your
summer haze
the
bitterness
of
winter
has
set
deep
in my
bones.
Deep
in
my heart.
A
permafrost
that no
one
can thaw.
I
am
only
a
hopeless
soul
to
wander
alone
in
the
cold.
And
I
accept that.

Poetry is for those who know that emotion
Is encrypted within the words spoken
Poetry is for the curious, and the mysterious
Although most Poets are true, they’re irrepressibly mischievous  
So open your mind before you open eyes
For this art often wears a bashful disguise

*Ink is *****, mixed with scarlet love
Words are jagged, and poetry is blood