Invisible darkness
Enveloping cold
Silent screams
Fading gold

Angry Ocean
Blushing sky
Deafening silence
Trying not to cry

I’ve been writing poetry about you on a daily basis.
Shalln’t complain, it’s rare to find such undiluted inspiration—-
Crisp and fresh, aquamarine
-Never such a sight I’ve seen-
And never such a sound I’ll hear
Sweet laughing waters splashing clear—-
Reason comes to stand adjacent,
Thinking me to be complacent:
“Shouldn’t this a worry be?”
She asks, “Your source of poetry?”
“Surely you must be possessed—-
Or at the very least, obsessed …”
“Nay!” I say, and, thanking her,
Turn back quickly to the words
That burble from the fountain’s head
And thus declare my worries dead:
For ne’er should Inspiration be refused
Regardless of an unexpected Muse—-

You are fireworks
in my chest and
things I can't hold on to
are slipping between my toes as I walk
across them. You don't care
that you showed up and stamped
a small portion of my stomach
with your butterfly-shaped coil.
I want it off
gone
out
done
but I know you'll come back
and I want you to feel the outline of it.
That way you'll know I never stopped trying
never stopped caring.
I need you to care, too.