I want something that I cannot have. I cannot have it because I don't truly know what it is. I've seen it polished and propped as if it were on display and I've heard the stories of how much time and effort it took to make it look as such. But I want it. I want love. I want the idea of it at least.
I want the fights brought about by events simpler and less important than the time we wasted to have them. I want to be pained by the sight of her pain and know that the feeling of knives piercing my chest when I see her cry is there because I would literally drive them there myself, if only to prevent her tears.
I want our laughs to intertwine over the smallest things and our conversations to stretch our minds over the biggest. I want to see you sleep at night and I'll smile because I know that you're finally at peace. And I want you to smile when you wake up because you know that I'm fighting to make your reality better than your dreams.
I want love. I want romantic love, I want crazy love. I want passion. I want to pick you up in my arms and in that brief present get lost in your presence. I want to be in you when I am in you and have you wish that I would stay forever. I want to be in your heart and mind, and I want our love to be torturous and blind.
I just want love. I want the idea of it at least.

She's never been the type
that loves large crowds and
booming parties;
the stress of conforming
weighs too heavily on her
sensitive heart,
and quite frankly, most
people don't fall on the same
end of the color spectrum.

Everywhere on this earth is
home to her, and Mother
Nature is her muse.
A black sheep born with a
wild heart; an indigo
child infatuated
with change and fueled
by tranquility. She is the
virtuoso of her own authenticity.

Darling, don't forget,
    or regret,
       the depths of this pain.

Wild flowers bloom
   only after
       it's been pouring rain.

I want to yell and scream
scream at the top of my lungs
so the whole world knows
what you did, how you hurt me

I want to hit and kick
give you a black eye
so you will know
know the pain I feel

I want to stop loving you
not care anymore
so that maybe you can stop
stop breaking my heart

I don't feel hate though
my lungs won't scream
my fists won't clinch
because even after all this
**I still love you

The iciness of his words
couldn't have hurt more
had he taken the icicle from
the overhang of my roof
and stabbed me
clean through to
this heart of mine.

Rigid and unforgiving
his breath spewed from his tongued mouth
forcing me to step back and wince
for so often the stench he breathes
brings harm to my soul
and wrecks havoc on the pieces of me
that once were whole.

'Tis only a memory now--
but still,
late at night
it comes back,
haunting me
taunting my senses
making me feel
as though
I should flee--
but where to go?
who to turn to now?
he's locked away--
but still...
those words, his evil
has a grip on me
somehow...

she left me with a wound on my tongue ,
which hasn’t stopped bleeding blue since i was four
(i can’t blame her for everything)
(only for a few sick days).

my blue tongue flings out words that shake like the world is too cold.
my blue tongue isn’t connected to my mouth and
you can find it if you look hard enough,
you can grab it if you don’t mind a loose barbed-wire fence,
easy to sneak under and tresspass and destroy with the right words that leave me a blurry brown.

these stanzas sing about new mexico as if i were a new muse,
neurotic with drips of life drip drip dripping out like a drum.

my blue tongue is blue.

my blue

tongue

is blue because i became a blue corpse when i was a bumble bee child,
stinging and dying and repeating repeating
repeating until i’m ornate like the teepees i visited, oh-so cyan, oh-so turquoise, oh-so royal.

oh-so

blue.