Everything was all
Lit candles and dusk
Hibiscus and pear
Unfurling out in smokey dragon tongues
Across my navy blanket.
Things seemed...
Sexier then
On a twin bed, surrounded by miles of
Forest.
Some nights,
Like a Highwayman
I stole away through the parting branches
The moon's cycloptic eye a beacon
Through the dead tree sea
And run to my Bess for kisses
Sweet, not-so-innocent touches
In the courtyard that overlooked
The Cemetery.

Yesterday, all things were dark
Like burning candles in the dusk.
Hibiscus, pear, and witches brew
And dragon's blood caught in the musk

Notions now, seemed **** then
And stealing out into the dark
I dreamt I was the highway man
After my Bess's fickle heart.

The moon above; cycloptic eye
Watched reverently as I crept
Across the mud and bracken path
Where willow trees once stooped and wept.

The musician crickets, with violin legs
Stroked their notes under the sky
And chirping peepers, peeking out
Sang louder in their sweet reply.

A long forgotten hidden grove
That bore the markers of the dead
Was where, for peace, I stopped to roam
Over the grass, to clear my head.

And there- amongst the silent mass,
Who find repose under the land-
I listened to their noiseless words
The silence, which I understand.

This is the story of a girl, who's eyes were black as night. Stars would flow from her hair, whenever she took flight.

On the back of a sparrow she would rise, to bid the sun farewell. Hair changing the sky to dark, stars shining where they fell.

Arms outstretched she'd gather sunsets, and place them in a jar. Making wishes for brighter days, upon each shooting star.

Faint memories hold as time wears on, she no longer has a name. Age no longer takes her youth, she'll always radiate the same.

Her gown of blue flows around her, with elegant wings spread her sparrow fly's. Changing day into night, forever doomed to roam the evening sky's.

That night they found you
In the park laying in blood
With your hoodie on, almost covering your  face

I saw you at the hospital bed and you looked comfortable even though you were in so much pain

It reminded me of all the times we would take the bus so early, so so early in the brisk mornings

And you'd be so sleepy,  so so sleepy and warm
You were always so warm
With your head inside your hoodie
Looking like a baby
And I'd giggle and give you kisses on your nose
Because I loved your nose the most

And you'd sort or squeeze my thigh and say something about my jeans. How they are too tight or how there are  "waaay too many rips."

And we would sit there silent just occasionally reading each others thoughts like it was nothing, just reading the way you'd read an ad on the bus

And I knew you were too good to be true
Because I felt like I was always dreaming around you

And I didn't think someone would make you go, make you leave me like this

And I didn't think the best memories of you would come so suddenly, in waves just to flood my whole body with this bad aching, such bad aching that felt like it was stealing years from my life...

And I really wanted it to, really really wanted it to.

Glass wasn't made to shatter;
Paper wasn't made to tear.
Fragmentation is a side effect of carelessness, not of life–
Not of love.
A rose is not meant to be crushed, pulled apart petal by petal, simply because it is soft.
The doe, graceful and wide-eyed, was not created to die at the hands of a man indistinguishable from a snake in the grass.
The monarch does not flutter with lithe wings to be caught, classified, and pinned to a page,
Nor do the leaves change hue, turn crisp, and fall to be crushed beneath an entitled foot.
I do not paint my eyes so that you can watch me bleed black and gold down my cheeks,
Nor do I wear my heart on my sleeve so that you can rip it apart valve by valve.
I am not your window pane, nor your blank page; your willow tree, nor your frozen stream.
I am the rabbit sleeping deep in her borough; I am the bluebird flitting between trees.
I may be fragile, but that doesn't give you permission to break me.