a simile comparing my love to the explosion of a star as a supernova

have you ever seen a star explode?
do you know what a supernova feels like?
I've never seen a supernova, but I've felt one.  I've fallen in love with the brightest stars and once they disappear, it's only a matter of time before it hits me. First the wind hits me from the outermost layer and I feel it but have no idea what's to come. Then the heat begins to consume me. It's hurting but I've not reached the point of rupture. And once I do my whole body collapses into the heart of a supernova. Watching the star burst into a million pieces all at once as if thinking about your own heart, feeling it do the same.

That's what it felt like loving you, you were a supernova that just completely decimated my world.

Wilted flower, why don't you bloom?

I've given you the sun, earth, and moon
so that you may see brighter days ahead
but you turn your back to wilt instead

Wilted flower, why don't you eat?

I've plated you above heavenly waters from the ground to drink
You block your roots to starve to death
Fighting back with all the strength you have left


wilted flower, why do you do what you do?

I've raised you up and believed in you
You wilt with sorry, leaves drooping low
Responding softly "I just want to let go"

how even
poets
come to a loss of words when describing
what love is like
and how you seem to make my life
go round even when it seems
like everything's crashing?
When I'm upset when you tell me
the things that go wrong in your life
and I'm incapable of helping you,
like family complications
I start to cry

I know I shouldn't..
I get all worked up with the things
I
can't change..
Im working on that..
You always say your stupid jokes
and it's crazy you make
everything
better.

"Love may oftentimes seem cliché
especially when we hear ourselves overuse terms such as:
'I love you to the moon and back.'
So what to say or better yet.. how to say it?
How can genuine love..the real kind.. the kind that isn't always happy and wrapped with a bow be expressed?"
but it's true.
I really do love you.
And even though I'm young
it doesn't mean
I don't know what it feels like..

if a poet falls in
love with you be
prepared to be
written about

in every possible way
from the way your eyes
sparkle under the moon

to how your lips form
that ever-so perfect smile
it’s the little things that
poets write about

the little things about you
makes a poet want to write
and write until their hand breaks

i fell in love with your
eyes, but then your eyes became
pits of darkness inside life's plum and it
wasn't quite okay with me but i dealt with it because they were
yours.

i fell in love with your
heart, but then your heart became
a ball of wires of darkness inside your chest and it
wasn't quite okay with your mother and least of all me but i dealt with it because it was
yours.

i fell in love with your
hair, but then your hair became
packing straw inside of a barrel made of mahogany and it
wasn't quite okay with your deadbeat dad and least of all me but i dealt with it because it was
yours.

i fell in love with your
lips, but then your lips became
cold and too much like your great great great grandmother's and it
wasn't quite okay with your brother and least of all me but i dealt with them because they were
yours.

i fell in love with your
words, but then your words weren't
heard and it wasn't quite okay with anyone
least of all me but i dealt with it because they were
yours.

i fell in love with
you.
but then you weren't you and it wasn't quite okay with
me.
it was okay with me least of all.
but i deal with it.

i deal with what you were.

i watch her lips move as she speaks
the symmetry of her face
stained glass eyes with cheeks of rose
a complexion as flawless as a fresh spring day
my heart is broken with every word she speaks.
for i feel my imperfections resounding more clearly in her beautiful frame
than i ever could in a mirror.
legs longer than any lie of self-love that i could ever spin
her waist narrow, molded into galaxies that boys will dream of grasping.


if she is spring, than i am the middle of february.
my skin is clear the way that the sky is green
my figure an ominous cloud of a long winter
lackluster, abrasive
daring those who look upon it to find themselves immediately disinterested

for i hold no fear for the oblivion of darkness
would march into the depths of the sea without glancing back
pretty girls are my sole fear
for i know that by the end of the day
you will look to her and, much like myself, not find a single flaw in her effortless effervescence,
and i will go by without so much as a passing glance.

Maybe it's been written
somewhere in the constitution
     of the waning moon

                                         ― When somebody loves you,
                                               you can never be lonely ―

But, appearances
  to the contrary,
the moon is sometimes blue;

counting stars alone
in a sky full of stars
is just about as lonely
as 'once in a blue moon'
                              can be ―

Like when the night is yours alone
                  or feeling alone
               in a crowded room

hearing Hank Williams moan within your silence
       "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry"

                                         ― When it's hard to say
                                               you love someone,..
                                               but it's harder to say
                                               when you don't ―

                • • •

A coyote's pleading howl
breaks the silent twilight engulfing trance
cast by the dappled moonlight;
like there's some kind of lonely madness
    swallowing him whole,..

                     as
    these two hollow eyes
                 gaze out through
                                     the chilly,
                                            sobering
                                                 refreshed
                                                   Autumn air
                                                             ­    spilling
                                                                ­  in through
                                                            the open window,

                                                        ­           counting stars ― alone
                                                           ­             in a sky full of stars

                                                       ­             the crackle of the fireplace
                                                       ­            echoes, startling the silence
                                                         ­                of a feigned warmth
                                                                ­          from the other side
                                                                ­ of an otherwise hollow room

and i feel frayed as a hole in an empty pocket with nothing left to lose

the impending dark winter nights are lonesome
            and  linger longer than before ...
  
seeing the empty space beside me
   I remember how it really really aches to just be ...

                                                            *­lonesome as a blue moon ― *

✩                   ✩                        ✩                                       ­ 
                ✩                   ✩                    ✩                           
✩          ­                                                      ✩
         ­                                                                 ­                                 ☽

moonless ― rivers ... 2017