My eyes latch on to you, as I begin
to notice yours. Alive and wide open
to wonder. Stuck within a starry gaze,
one million tiny planets mirrored in
the fresh and newly gleaming galaxies
you hold. I start to feel you float away.
I watch you set your sails, with hope in hand
and wonder if I’d ever catch a glimpse
of eyes so honest. I would lap it up -
swim right along beside you, if I could.

Delusion tells me there might be a way
to steal those looks, at least for a few months.
A vessel for your future; my today,
but one of disappointment, all the same,
or so they told me once when I was young.
I guess we’d have to wait and see if I
would break the way they forecast that I could
or if I’d fracture how I always do.
Either way, that fear skips over you.

I won’t deny, a temporary peace
could be the perfect savior to my doubt.
That soft and gentle smile you’re posing now
could be all mine for just a little while.
I’d let you sweetly sway me off to sleep,
protect me with your life while we both float
away into that sky and I would be
the perfect vessel before my decline.

A grinding halt, one fragment at a time.
Up front, that fierce direction I might need
consuming days with more than air to breathe.
Instinct to catch the sun, soaking bright light
through glowing skin. The pine to step outside
and wander in a warming morning breeze.
Dark urgency to touch; desire with ease;
it slowly slips away by flawed design.

Eventually, a breath can seem a chore
when every gasp brings aching disregard.
If breathing turns to wasted life support:
who wants a working, anesthetised heart?
To force the lungs to fill and then to fall
seems criminal when lips don’t want to part.

A vast collapse, as light is burning out
to charcoal ash. My sight can’t guarantee
a single step ahead: the irony
of eyelids open, dressing minds with doubt.
The sweetest cherry flags were shouting loud,
as if my muddled brain could hear the screams;
react to some acceptable degree,
not plunge into the spiral or blackout.

Now time is bending, blurring all too fast
to pinpoint how to cease the looming threat.
The motionless abandon of the crash
takes aid away from tests and rules I’ve set.
Now trapped down here, in torment, all I ask
is “Please can someone help me to forget?”

I guess it would be kind of nice to learn
that spitting sweetness never gets you far
in early morning daylight. There's no charm
in forceful flames, when we will always burn
with uninspiring silence in return.
When finding fears that rise with the alarm;
dark, tempted lips insist on causing harm
then choke on rotten candies of concern.

I guess it would be nice to be taught how
to keep my bitten tongue secure and still;
to sleep through early mornings and allow
incessant pleading rest from overkill.
If you, my sweet, once chose to be around,
I understand why you’d have lost the thrill.

The flowers in my hair have planted weeds
inside my sanity. Developed roots
that cant be separated now, they're fused;
intrinsic to my idiotic needs.
The darkness spreads through insecurities
that form when painful memories dilute
and bend into a distant toxic truth
that leaves a desperation to concede.

I'm not quite sure just how to carry on
when words don't really help and there's no room
to plant new flowers or to try move on.
I guess I'll have to think of something new.
You'll find me in my garden from now on,
uprooting weeds to finally be in bloom.

There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love:

A girl that pities herself enough to think she is so intrinsically broken
she couldn’t even connect with someone biologically destined to love her;
A girl stupid enough to learn that love is a reward that she must earn,
yet frantic enough to always work too hard for it;
A girl that overcompensates. Begs. Forces.
A girl that claims she ‘Doesn’t know what to do with love’
when it comes along, so that, naturally, she can smother it;
A girl who’s biggest fear is abandonment, yet is an expert on expecting too much;
A girl that’s waiting to be saved, but would tell you she doesn’t deserve it;
A girl that still obsesses over ways she has been bruised
when surrounded by people that have helped her heal;
A girl who’s self involved, with no sense of self;
A girl that cries. And cries. And cries.

There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love.

Quietly, now,
the words settle in my brain
with softer edges than before.
Shapes your mouth made
piece together, delicately, now
I look for the cause.

Patiently, now,
I hear your voice in pastel tones:
my spectrum blurs the shout.
A storm I only helped grow
settles silently, now
my eyes are on the ground.

Carefully, now,
I keep my own shades pale
enough to match yours.
Words coming out faint,
we sit, quietly, now
I understand the score.