if they say a one-word poem,
i'll write your name...
I'm kind of stuck
At least... I think I am
Somewhere between telling everyone I know to *******
And "just please come hold me friend"
Some place in between an uneasy heart and hectic mind
Can't I just say it without having to explain why?
Sometimes I don't even know which reason to choose
"You seem like you don't want to talk"
You're right, but I also want to reach out
I want out
I want to let go of everything
And capture it all in my arms
like a fire fly in the palm of restless hands,
Just let me hold on to your light
Atleast, just for tonight
Because I'm feeling stuck.
i met you at sunset
when the hour was golden
and i forgot that life was a burden
and all i could think about
— and the next minute, you disappeared, for you were a being of the golden hour. no more, no less.
when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
and into the arms of their beloved
i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love
you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
into the waters of “you”
i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”
and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”
submerging into the depth
how could i ever leave?
I wish to appease,
To hold your fragility;
A soft-petaled breeze.
Heart's field: you root deep,
Yet my fingers will not reach
To **** your beauty.
“marvelous brush strokes”
the complimentor favors brevity,
employs these pointy few words
the complimentee, me,
favors the insanity
of the overwhelming
overarching hell of
but that would dishonor the symmetry of comprehension,
that would dishonor the comprehension of the symmetry
of painting and writing
select colors, use the old palette, favored,
the cash cache of mixology and finally the strokes
i brush your grizzled face
i brush your grizzled face with colored words
i brush your grizzled face with marvelous brush strokes
the painting incomplete, my brush strokes need retouching,
my brush stoking fingers need a touch of real
so I am coming to see you as foretold^
so i may sign my name signifying completion
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
paint me like Van Gogh
draw me in your milky sky
that only holds stars in place
through your artistic eyes
show me how the midnight sky can
hold a beauty for a person like me
show me that I too can swirl in
place with colors of yellow and white
I want to be the paint within your soul
to create me to life with the brush of a stroke
paint all my colors bold even the dark
ones where a story is told
I want to see it through your eyes
that holds my beauty in your
milky starry sky
you're like a rainbow to me
you hold everyone's favorite color
even though you don't hold mine
ill still watch you come by
we are born of dust
we die along with the wind
skins within the spectrum of beige
blood the same crimson