snow was brittle, i found
fresh white paper
crinkling under

snow was fragile, i learned
like shredded glass
but softer

like all my edges
as they really are
not how
i see them

I fear a great many things,
None so severe as the feeling itself.

But it's a self fulfilling circle of hating myself more then I did yesterday,

And I can't tell if it's anxiety or courage that makes me stay away from any and all who I could bother with my misplaced stumbling and mumbling through what others call conversation.

I never know how long to pause or how long I'm aloud to gather my thoughts,

And words are hard, In the spoken sense because with nearly everyone I meet there's a sense of urgency.

Like we're the last two people in the world and they have somewhere more important to be,
So I let them.

If they want to rush through the vast cosmos of thought then I let them,
I let them walk by and I don't say a word because words are hard
And I'd rather spend time with the abstract concepts that tear like a twister through my mind as if being painfully real and a pleasant fairy tale at the very same time.

And this isn't a puff peace to make you feel something like this person I am is someone to be pittied or looked down on.

Words are hard because I don't quite see the point,

Talk is cheap, it can be found anywhere, it spills from our lips like liquid fools gold,

I'm no fool.

Nervous laughter
Trembling hands
Lustful kisses
Between smiles of joy
In the rush of the moment
In the hush of the night
I'll whisper I love you
While I stare into your eyes

He would come
to me in waves of
hot whispers and moonlight
His touch was penetrating
and was real life
He made misery feel like
warm flesh
sweet and inviting
but it hurt the first time
the slow pain
of him entering
then leaving gently
Skin craving skin
we knew we were doing
something meaningful
something substantial

I bloomed like
a shy flower
in the midnight Sun
And it was much more than
*** had anything
to do with it...

silver cup reflection
sip watcher
I'll have it, I'll take two now

let me die beside
something beautiful
even if it won't love me

& say thank you
a hundred times until tomorrow
good morning
late thought hangover
my mind can't wash it

I don't want to say
poetry
during poetry
but nothing helps, so

count down like a rocket
for something less than
a show of sparks
honey, it rains like we do it's
only March

you filter every pixel pore
you angle yourself thin

my darling, which
do you love more?

the ******* the screen
or the girl in your skin?

the words
are beads and gems
and hooks and strings

scattered in a box
somewhere in
the softness behind my breastbone

my palms are up to catch the key
whenever it chooses to land

a pandora poised
to make ornaments
from all she uncovers,
all she unleashes