He has a smile that
Mesmerizes,
Carefully hiding
The circles that form
Beneath his eyes.
He laughs like he
Doesn't feel hollow inside
But the sound never seems
To come out quite right

He lives
Like the silver moon,
In a midnight starlit sky.
Faces stare admiringly
Yet he always wonders why.
He only sees the shadows
Swimming before his face,
Never the light that he emits,
With unassuming grace.

He longs for
Constellations
But I am just one fleck
Of light amidst the darkness
That wraps around his neck
I feel his aching heart contract,
Encased in ice and stone
Oh, that I could be the warmth
That he has seldom known.

I write of spring in autumn
of summer in winter
I like to be where I'm not
to cheat on time
fantasy
is so much better

people won't remember
your pretty face
nor your pretty clothes
and the money you had.
they will remember
the melody in your laugh
and the way you loved
and the beauty of your heart
and the bravery of your spirit
and the kindness of your soul.
they won't remember what
you looked like
they won't remember what
you had.
they will remember you
and the words you told them
and the life you spoke to them
and the water you used
to bring to life the dead garden
in their souls
and they will remember the
sunshine in your smile
and the stars that
hid in your eyes.

Sometimes I feel like we’re galaxies apart.
You, a big blue star in the heart of the universe
and I, a black hole,
exterminating everything in my path on my way to you.
Midway, I stopped and I realized that if I get closer to you,
I might destroy you as all the other stars I passed by.
So here I am, staying away from you as far as I can,
watching you from afar so I won’t ever touch
the masterpiece that you are
even though that’s all I ever wanted to do
ever since we met.
I watch you shine from a distance
as I starve myself from the warmth of your light.
I remain in the darkness,
quietly counting the light years between us.

grey skies roll
clouded tropical
undercurrents
of future falls
shrouding skies
and shifting seas
from sad-eyed lowlands
to mountain highs
and we as trees
shiver branches
ever extending
shootings in the breeze
at arm’s reach
we never touch
planted
too far apart
and as such
falling droplets
slip through fingers
and shatter the ground
an endless coming down
our roots soaked through
spent
and craving more
all around
aroused from slumber
the petrichor grows
slowly floating up
and filling the air

a warm dawning sun
rises slow on hazy horizons
with winds wildly
blowing
down endless
interconnected currents
we wake up
to birds singing
timeless songs of morning
and our forgotten past
leaves us hanging
like willows weeping
in the rain

I was eleven, the first time I saw you.
I thought you were sweaty, and that your hair was too long.
I had just skipped two straight months of school,
they had told you about me and I hated that.

I was twelve, the first time I met you.
I remember my classmates were uninspired
and equally uninspiring.
I wrote things for you, I wanted you to know that
I wasn't like them.
I not only thought things through, I couldn't stop.
I wrote to keep from going crazy.

You showed me your plays,
your poetry,
your short stories.
You showed me college english textbooks
full of various prose,
each one flavored slightly differently.

You showed me The Giver,
and Dead Poet's Society.
I wondered if you really fancied yourself
the captain,
leading your charges into vast fields of knowledge,
and what's more,
appreciation for the knowledge.

You were the teacher that made kids
want to teach.
You looked after me.
Made sure I was fed.
Signed me up for extra credit,
even when I said no.
You showed me what it was like
to have someone's support.
You showed me love.

When I went to high school
we stopped talking,
except for the occasional email.
But I had a boyfriend
And I smoked ***
And I didn't want
to let you down.

When I graduated, I sent you an email.
Explained everything.
I begged to see you,
to talk about all that happened.
You never replied.

You died the week before I received my diploma.
Since then,
I've been going off of soundbite bits of advice
you once gave me,
trying always to remind myself that I can do this,
because
you showed me.