It's easier to have
no expectations at all,
so your heart won't break when he
doesn't come.

You are honey in the summer and
the first flower of spring,

lost buttons and stones,
sunsets and home,

you are my absolute
favorite thing.

Tell me the story
of when the earth stood
still
long enough for you
to remember
how warm her smile was,

how beautiful her eyes were,

how she was the sun.

Tell me the story
of when the moon
swept her away
into the oceans

because she was the pull from
the moon to the earth.

Tell me the story
of when,
on that fateful day,
you realized

she was inevitability.

I've realized it can't be easy,
being a gardener who doesn't know where to start.

You don't know how to caress your flowers
in the sunlight,

you don't know how to let it rain
upon their petals.

You're more delicate than they are.

Your fingers shake and your                                                                                                                 heart aches all the time.

You wanted to bring beauty into the world
but you realized you didn't know what to do after that.

You don't know where to put your heart,
in the petals, in the grass, in the leaves?

You used to whisper to me, dad,
when the thunder scared me right out of my stem.

You used to hold me
when I hadn't blossomed just yet.

I understand now.

You planted a seed and made a flower,
but you could only be the father,

never the dad.

Drowning in insignificance
choking on irrelevance

dancing in the pouring rain
stars falling with no pain

no idea where to go
reaching an all new low

can't take a breath
life's too full of heft

feeling the weight crush me
this is no way to be

where did my lungs go
what about my heart

all I feel is the blood that
was the start

of all of this mess i can't stop
thinking of what it would be like

in a world without me because
a world without me would be

the exact same.

Abandonment is a
prominent flavor in my
daily brew of
depression and
loneliness.

Steaming hot cups of
lonely nights and
sad thoughts
burn my tongue and
warm my insides.

I used to imagine us
sipping hot cups of whatever
across from each other in our
white picket-fence home

and then you became like the others.
I just hope you're happier,
wherever you may be,
for I think of you
while I sip from this

steaming hot  cup of
lonely ol' me.

I feel you in the air tonight.
You're screaming inside my lungs,
scratching at them and making them
burn while I try to learn how to
breathe again.

I don't know how to let you out,
you've found your way out of my mind
and to my heart and now you've ventured
to my lungs and who knows where you'll go next,

unless you just suffocate me now.