It seems as though you've brought a
new light into my dismal life;
a new window for sunshine to gaze through
while I struggle through this darkness.

Circles are what I waltz in with the
old flower I clutch to;
I love you like I've always loved you
I'm sorry I don't show it more

I don't think he's all that sorry.

Instinctual habits of remembering favorites for
meaningless gifts and knowing that we must
hold hands upon entrance --
these habits haunt me.

I do not feel like I used to,
I do not feel the flame in my belly when I used to
hear his name or see his face.
It's faded away.

A small flicker, ignited with hope of a brand new chance
in months to come
is what I cling to for warmth through these cold times...
I hope we can survive this famine (love is so scarce these days).

But you..
you have this way of bringing me
to the brink of a whole new paradise.
Most likely a mirage, but I'm accepting it anyway.

Even if you are only a temporary sunlight
in my life of shade,
I'll drink you in and hope forever
that you'll stay to blossom with me.

the moon had flesh, but i tore it away
(exposure exposure)
curiosity got the best of me i wanted to know
if what i was dreaming about truly was something remarkable

(i was wrong)

the moon was a vessel full of nothingness
a reflection of my heart,
a destination of my soul

learning desolation and craving the form of a black hole,
my entire presence on this fuckall called earth is no longer
tangible

i am nothing

we are all,
nothing

flesh and sadness walking this earth with a purpose that no one's truly been able to find

none of us are anything

except for temporary shreds of sanity
that rot after a little while

distance never seems to be an issue
when the heart yearns for a love that is new.
a craving for something spectacular,
(some sort of feeling untouched and raw)

perhaps if love were more of an unexpected experience than a
lifetime destination, it would be treasured more--
the number of forms it takes is too far to reach,
but the depth of each type can swallow you completely

my self-esteem
has the sensation of a
tight fist
colliding
with a dying sun

my
sadness
has become as
swollen
as my
b  i  g , f  a  t
t   h   i   g   h   s

Too young** for those who prefer a number over a level of
maturity and understanding of the world,

too large for this who prefer to feel bones slipping between their
fingertips instead of warmth cradling their trembling self,

too smart for those who would rather be blind to the world and
how dim and dark and sad it can be,

too you for those who don't understand who I am, what I could be,
and how terribly much I could love them.

compared
not even worthy of a contrast
other names etched on your lips while you
look at me

it's difficult to understand
why you even bother
if you live in the past
so vibrantly