not always an overcoming bliss...
love is...
conversing with a friend over a sad event that happened in there day,
stopping for a minute in the playground with your brother to play
showing steps in a math problem for your little sister
spreading the cheese over the lasagna for your mom and her mister
carrying grocery bags to an elderly person's car
picking up a **** in a yard
letting someone know some insight you have on a particular action
looking into someone's eyes and absorbing how they feel (for a minute, forget attraction)

doesn't have to be relatable.
doesn't have to be fun.
but this is the kind of love,
that when you give it,
you can't help but feel
some warmth coming from somewhere out there
and unwillingly, unknowingly
makes it's way inside your heart.

A boy.
A boy,
Who's love I need to feel.
I'm not his girl
He's the love I long to steal.
His voice is the sweetest,
My ears have ever heard.
For him,
I'd do anything,
Say anything
I'd give him the world.

Even with my best intent
I let him slip,
Melting to sloppy wet drips
And flowing straight,
Through my fingertips.
Even when I tried to grab hold,
I grabbed, I jabbed, and pricked,
Still away he had surely slipped.

Oceans apart
However, close we are.
There's still a spark,
It magnifies every emotion
Heightens every notion
And through all the dark,
There is still a shrill
A deep, deep, shrill,
The life-giving *****,
Beats out of turn,
Even still.

I look into those deep dark vessels,
The Windows to your soul.
They search my flesh
They cry out,
Why?
Our future clear as sunniest of skies.
Though it's not a happy ending,
What a surprise.

Reality the way it always does
Creeps close.
It's wrong we know very well
in the heat of the moment, passion swells
We're both thinking stop,
But onward we march
Into this terribly beautiful yet tragic arch,
Of love and lust that cuts so deep.
Our brains know better, but our hearts,
They are weak.

Then it hits.
In that instant a vivid dream
Comes to me lucid and not quite serene.
Your lips dancing in time
With mine closely behind

Stop

You look at me and remember her.
I'm sorry I say "I loved you first"
"Love me" I scream
Without a sound.
The words pouring out silently
My wide and weary eyes
Say it all as they cry.
Kiss me again
To send me away so abruptly.
Would surely begin,
**My end.

Something so serene about standing on the pier
While a beggin' street performer sang stairway to heaven.
Although not my favorite Zeppelin.
It was magic.
The wind carried the melodic tune.
That was it.
Everything and nothing.
One moment out of a million.

I hated the wind,
And the cold but,
In that moment I could see us there,
Growing old.

Your smile gave me warmth.
The closeness set me on fire.
In that instant,
I've never been higher.
No pipe, pill, or drink
Could make me feel,
Or make me think.
And I have to say.
It was one of my best days.

Do people really know,
Are they just afraid to be alone?
How long does it take to figure,
A month, a day, more than a year?
Can you tell the moment its real?
Is it something you see, or something you feel?
People use the word in excess.
Would you still be in love if there was no ***?

You pretended to care
Told me, "I will." and took me in,
Said something sweet.
You said what I want, but not what you mean.
We were seemingly so serene.
You promised me,
Not just in times of glee.
The happier we seemed to be,
The wishes, well were kept.
As soon as the wind kicked up,
You were emotionally inept.
You said I was the one.
Who knew you'd run.
I saw all your imperfections.
And lied to myself about every one.
Your lie was more,
But it was my favorite.
You'd quietly say,
"I love you too."
Because, sometimes a lie,
Is better than truth.

There is a woman,
In years her sun is setting.
When it rises,
She wakes,
Gets out of bed,
Walks through hallways,
Out her front door,
Into her car,
In the backseat,
Where she goes back to sleep.

Why she does this, I don't know.
It has something to do with her fingernails.
She holds them in front of her,
Little ribbons of light emerge and weave themselves,
Until tangled and without direction,
Not without,
In every direction.
In the red back-light her silver hair becomes ablaze.
Extending from this fire that has no sentiment towards time,
Is an arm,
It has no joints and can only have it's palm facing up.
Cradled in the pit of infinite lifelines,
Are a set of hands,
They do a trapeze act on an entire spectrum,
That spangle into a single pillar.
Atop is the closest thing to,
Eternal elixirs.

Why she does this, I don't know,
But I don't want to be like her.
I don't want to hand myself a glass of water and say
'Thank you'.
I don't want to let the wind in my ears,
So it can pierce my head like a javelin.
Turning me to a device that spits directions,
Though,
Doesn't really know,
Because I constantly spin on one foot.
I don't want to be the popping spark,
That ebbs away the right hemisphere of the brain.
The hollowed echo of conversations from prior days.
She drives her car as if it were a living room.
She makes everything inside my skin move down,
A quarter inch.
I don't want to be like that woman,
Who only has herself as company,
Yet still manages to disagree with whats being said.

I want to be a compass that points towards paradise,
Instead,
I find a mirror,
And a reflection of fleeting beauty.
Instead,
I hear the wind,
And an unfamiliar dinner party.