The skies are my companions,
our lungs are perfectly still
under the weeping clouds,
we don't breathe.
We are rancor-soaked
tattered eyes
(they seem old because
we lost the innocence
of our childhood in the scream of thunder).
Our future is a mirage,
I'm too dim to be defined as a star,
you cannot be a meteor
because your fire isn't potent.
But we are nothing short of brave,
we have our memories bound in scars
that can't possibly heal.
We bleed without being cut,
I will simmer down but
I am not a calm soul,
I blaze too loud sometimes,
I will scream until my lungs cave in.
I will run until my legs crumble.
I will search for the cloud
stable enough to carry my depth.
I will learn to stumble
across your terrain
under this relentless rain.
I will try to tell the sky that he is not alone.

My maps are built
in the palms of my calloused hands
but I wouldn't know
to read them
because my eyes
have only learned to built
constellations of contorted stars.
As though blinking with a diminutive heartbeat.
The sky has a thousand hearts.
And he's almost alive,
he has known no edge to fall over,
no chasm to drown into.
And he wouldn't know when he shatters
because he's too old
to hold up on his brittle limbs.
He is beautiful,
born out of the blue every morning,
dying every night all over and
over and over.
When he's tired,
he cries and he screams
and he falls apart,
but we were taught
to call the rain nothing else than beautiful.
We were taught to draw away
from the thunderstorms and lightning,
because the sky is angry, they told us,
the sky will hurt you,
they said.
But who would know?
Who would know his agony?
Who would they ever know
how I survived this fall?

Thaw
Among my ruins.
Leftovers of our hearts
Hanging threadbare
Across the constellations above.

I'm a liar because
I pretend so much.
I pretend the tears are not yours.
I pretend your eyes are still green.
I pretend your face is not so pale
almost similar to a corpse's.
I wonder if you know, that sometimes —
sometimes I wish I knew
what love could possibly be.
I walk with paper wounds
and cardboard bruises
and I haven't learned
to keep myself from falling apart
when you tell me
to tell you that I love you.
I would want to tell you
that I never knew
that you could tear apart so violently,
that you could voice,
that your strangled scream could be heard.
An agony so sharp it comes visible.
Tangible.
Palpable.
I pretend to breathe
when it wrings your soul
out of your heart,
bleeding/battered/broken broken broken
broken.
But my fingertips brush yours.
Our arms are a tangle of scars,
we are a pile of bones
and we are not afraid
of each other's darkness
anymore.
Your eyes are fluttering
against my eyelashes,
your hands almost too scared.
I cannot let you know I shattered
when you shattered.
We're shattered words,
unsaid and unheard,
alive only in echoes and thoughts.
We're almost apart,
we're almost whole,
we're almost sure,
we're almost healed.
But my hands are too desperate
snuffing out the fire
because your eyes
are too use to the dark.
We're lying with the truths
that our eyes scream,
were drowning in the dust
that we're not afraid of,
we're not crying
(because we lost our tears).
We're flooded with emotion
but we're empty shells
cracking on the surface and we
collapse.
We collapse because
our knees buckle
and our ankles are disjointed,
all of our past is an ocean
and we're drowning again.
We're drowning until we gasp,
clutching at each other's hands
like it will be the last time.
We're seconds stumbling out of time,
we touch everything and everyone,
and we become their memory.
I grasp your hand and fit the image into a second, burning you into my being.
But your eyes are wide
as though you did not know
we stretch into the unknown;
that we are vacant terrains
standing upended
with empty pockets,
and your hair is too gold
in the sunlight
but your eyes are too green,
and they're screaming so loud so loud
so loud.
They are scared and and questioning me,
they're asking me to stay.
But all I manage is a whisper
because I lost my voice
in the whirlwind I was born out of.

Forever Is such a small word, love
I'll be with you until time ceases to exist.

Your eyes are wide and unsure,
but your shoulders never sag,
your hands never tremble,
you have been taught to hide your heart
in the darkness of your chest, I know.
But unravel, I want to tell you.
Unravel unravel unravel.
We're wounded on the surface
but our insides are ravaged too,
we will scream this anguish
into our crumbled knees,
we will shatter.
We are rancor-soaked and
tattered bones,
we are fallen valor but
we will not let ourselves be pitied.
Our night sky carries the same moon,
not quite half, not quite yet full.
It's dangling with no visible strings
but the stars do not shine
from where you stand.
The stars are not as bright,
as if they can hear our screams
that we have contained
in our collapsed shells.