Your love is like...

Helium

It changed the

Voice

Of my heart

Her ribs crackled, in the skeleton night.
And I remember my mouth on hers,
where atomic fish hooks attached our lips.
Where there was nothing like kissing
like our God wasn't dead.

She was accused of killing a taxi driver
in the Brazilian underbelly.
Smoking a cigarette, she dropped it on the ground,
spat on it, and crushed it with her bare foot,
saying she fell in love with the way
his sleep-drenched body lay.

And I told her to stay home.
And I told her that they'd find her.
But she didn't stay home.
And they did find her.

Chasing her through the Babylon brush,
insults were thrown and so were balloons of gasoline.
Each pink, yellow, and green vessel floated in the air, as an internal opera heightened.
And sour splashes spread across her body,
as she fled from the vigilante mob.

The children danced along the panoramic horizon she ran beside,
laughing, pointing, singing.
The slumbering sorrow of the situation became evident,
and she started to feel the calm of fleeting life.

Her dreams aborted and her ideals became fallacies,
and with the sound of fuzzy motors in the background, her heart leapt and her feet slipped.

Rope ate into her, wrapping her like the orphaned recklessness of each set of eyes that painted her.
She squirmed amongst the cheers.
She cried with every thrown beer and balloon.
The empty-eyed males gang ***** her.
The women covered the children's eyes,
and the children tried to move their mothers' hands.

And I pushed my way through the crowd.
And I saw her smothered in blood, beer, and gasoline.
I wanted to halt the hurricane that destroyed morality.
But I am a coward.
Frozen by my fear, I, too, am a murderer.
And a murderer I'll always be,
for the burning of all that was good.

Sudden flames soared towards the sky.
Laughter escaped as molotov cocktails exploded onto her body.
Her head turned towards the crowd,
as flames scampered across her face.
I saw in her, what I never saw before,
which was the human race.

Two years ago I wrote myself a letter.
Inside of it I told myself to not give up.
To not give up on writing, something I
believed I was good at, which is rare.
Within those years, I stopped believing.
I stopped being creative.
I made no more time for it.
That's when I realize that's how it is to grow up.
You just start to lose that spark, that passion.
But reading that letter made me reach for a pen and paper.

Writing poetry at midnight because I can't fathom the thought of losing you.
Somehow I hope you find this and read all my words unspoken.

We are together, yet we are not meant to be together.
I am terrified of hurting you more than I can love you. Your happiness is all that matters to me and I hate the fact I am giving you sad happiness, I can never give you joy without the pain.
You don't deserve that.
We love each other so much that it is dangerous, it's toxic love. The type of love that we both know isn't right, yet we carry on drowning in it anyway.

She asked for my help
To stay by her side
I just smiled and told her
Everything will be alright

I grabbed her hand, I held it tight
She asked me to sing her a lullaby
I did,I sang her favorite song
When I finished singing, I realized she was gone

She was smiling, her eyes closed
She went off peacefully, a silent death
She didn't say nor hear the word goodbye
It was painful for me to just let her slip by

I remember the time, and the place
And even the clothes she had on that cold winter night
That was the first time I met her, in an unexpected way
Yet, it felt planned like it was no accident

I was buying gifts for my family and friends
In a local store down the street
Down the shelf of trinkets and presents
I saw a doll my niece had always wanted

It was the last one there, and seeing no one else
I reached for the doll, ready to get it with my hand
However, it looked like I was not alone
There was another woman, who wanted it as well.

Being the man that I was, I let her take it
She told me it's mine, but I insisted she take it
Not wanting to feel guilty, she asked me to dinner
To repay me for giving her the doll we both wanted

I was hesitant at first, but I gave in
She was happy with my reply, joyful even
I just smiled, I realized how beautiful she was
We found a restaurant, and hastily went in

We talked the whole night, like friends reunited
When in truth, we had just met by accident
Annie was her name, and I never forgot it
The night passed by with us talking and laughing

I felt weird, not knowing what it was
It wasn't bad, it was actually the best feeling I've ever had
We had to part, as the night grew deep
But not before I asked for another time for us to meet

Weeks passed by, she and I just fell
For each other, not noticing at first
But slowly we realized our feelings for each other
And at the same time, confessed our love for one another

I was happy that time
Happier than I have ever been in my entire life
But unfortunately, the universe had other plans for me
And also for my dear sweet Annie.

About a year after we first met
On her way to the restaurant we had set
For a date to celebrate the day we met
She met a horrible and tragic accident

She was ran over by a car that lost control
Due to the wet, slippery road
And came speeding towards her direction
Soon screams and sirens were heard

I was contacted by her mother of what had taken place
And told me Annie was in a critical state
I frantically asked where she was now
I heard hospital, there was only one in town

I rushed to her, wanting to see if she's okay
I got to her room, everything seemed alright
I saw the doctor, and asked if she's fine
He just pat my shoulder, and gave off a sigh

I went to her and slowly stroked her hair
Waiting for her to wake up, or show signs she's still there
She did, and she gave a weak smile
And shed a single tear that slid down her eye

She asked for my help
To stay by her side
I just smiled and told her
Everything will be alright
But now, I know that I had lied

My name is not important. It was the first of many predetermined decisions that I myself had no say in. But today I went outside and the clouds looked like giant white manatees swimming through the depths of the sky, and it was beautiful. And I'm only mentioning this because it was beautiful. And every single beautiful thing is always worth mentioning.
I was sitting on my porch and letting the sun rub against my skin, when I heard a small voice calling out to me. At first I could not here exactly what the voice was saying but it sounded like a question. I looked down and noticed a small colony of ants walking in a line from one end of the sidewalk to the other except for one who stood still. The voice called out again and I leaned in to hear what it was saying.
"What's the difference?" It called.
And I said, "What?"
"What's the difference," it said again, "between you and I? Every day so many of you live your life just like we do directly below your feet. Working and working. Working so much it's become like an instinct for you. And are you even sure who, or what, you're working for? You work because they tell you to work. They make you think your value lies in the amount of work you do, or how much you get paid to do such work. Then you teach your children that they too must work, in order to acheive their dreams and desires, or your dreams and desires for them. You encourage them to walk in straight lines in the same direction to the same destination. Warn them not to stray, because it's not safe, not secure. But in some ways you are worse than us. You are slaves to money and to time. Or rather, you are slaves to time, and because of that, devote your lives to money in order to slow down time. We are mearly slaves to survival. Survival. This concept must seem foreign to you because you've all become so comfortable and complacent that you're barely even alive."
He paused.
"Stand up and live."
And with that, he fell back in line. I tried to keep an eye on him, but lost him in the line

Lifeless as she lay
Her skin so pale
The gleam in her eyes
Had begun to fade
She lay still
Unable to move
The pain was torturous
tearing her apart
Like a thousand needles
Pricking her heart
She was left alone yet again
Blaming herself for all the pain
The agony was deeper
The affliction more severe
Everything that held her strong
Was now falling apart
Breathing her last
With the last blow
Closed her eyes
She was ready to go....