I've always been a fan of distress.
Maybe it's the broken words that get woven into melodies,
that I would relate to in the past, but remember in the present.
The heart breaks in hall ways and idling cars.
The bitter bedrooms, queen sized quilts of cluelessness,
Pessimism encompassing optimism as the day surrenders to night
and no aubades are sung.

I've also always been a fan of love,
A beautiful mind I wouldn't mind exploring.
Searching for love can wear a person out,
so I became my other half, and I learned to love who I am.
I fell in love with the idea of being in love with life.

And when you came into my life, etherial and honest
something out of a book I've never read.
The poems in every chapter that appear as we evolve are beautiful.
I still have a soft spot for the melancholy.
I'm still in love with the fine, light rain that falls in the evening hours,
the serenity of silence and aubades as the sun expires.


But I'm also in love with you and your undying ability to love me.
I've gotten to know your mind, your body, your countless strengths and the imperfections you see in yourself but I can't.
The way your words convey confidence and belief.
I don't know if the universe fights for souls to be together,
but I think some things are just too strange and strong to be coincidences.

Eyes like oceans, blue-gray with every wave, darker as you waved goodbye.
Years and years of taste and affection blown away by the sweet sound of voices I thought but never spoke.
I spent my days longing for a life outside the lines.
Beyond the wooden chairs and green tables underground, or a driveway a few doors down.
Little did I know what was waiting for me.

I've been searching for happiness as
fabricated facades found they're way to me,
I finally found my way to you.
The roads were paved, the sky was expiring, withdrawing as it flashed it's last hues of crimson as the sun died out and I felt our love begin.

The opaque re-written rain
wrote it's tragedies across the asphalt.
The sky was on a smoke break,
smudging the trees with the loneliest form of comfort.
Forgotten folk tales stayed unimportant,
Memories like cursive written apologies
tied with greeting cards and a whole lot of
"get well soon"

The weather never liked company,
changed its mind without turn signals,
A whole new way to love; unexpected.
Take your coffee and your faded tattoos and run,
Far away from love,
Far away from frames.
Stay golden or smudge,
Just promise to stay the same

We lost ourselves in confident words,
fastidious bones trembling until the very day God told us to stop.
Stop carving our mistakes into our feckless skin,
ashamed because we are prisoners to our own game.
We’ll always find a relapse, some ******* way
to return to the gloomy, trashed basements
with the sign hanging over the door that reads,
“turn back now.”
And though turning back means endless labyrinths
of dead birds,
and throbbing heart beats spinning on record players
that we just end up breaking, we break with them.

the lights are low but the scorching fire can't be put out,
chandeliers hang overhead,
you wonder if you're better off dead.

We lost ourselves in confident words,
fastidious bones trembling until the very day God told us to stop.
Stop carving our mistakes into our feckless skin,
ashamed because we are prisoners to our own game.
We’ll always find a relapse, some ******* way
to return to the gloomy, trashed basements
with the sign hanging over the door that reads,
“turn back now.”
And though turning back means endless labyrinths
of dead birds,
and throbbing heart beats spinning on record players
that we just end up breaking, we break with them.

the lights are low but the scorching fire can't be put out,
chandeliers hang overhead,
you wonder if you're better off dead.

The literature I see in you is prize winning.
I don't know how or why,
or what or when.
but the sky you see is make believe.
You leave me with oceans in my palms
and daylight in my veins.
Somehow I remain sane.
Your eyes, reflections of the daylight you put in mine.
your heart like a sunset I wish I could rewind,
and when the stars burn out and
the suns returns to stay,
timeless, as we go our ways.

But soon the stars will be our stories,
and daylight is something we get to share
and discuss over coffee and laughter.
And until then I appreciate the dawn and the dew,
but not as much,
as I appreciate you.