She; an antidote
an anecdote you'll never quite forget
insanity on either side of her
the men that congel conspiracies and gush
at She; the mother of clarity
A free remedy to remember
She gives a rush, a calm breeze
and they suckle on her voice like sweet syrup
An easy surrender
you'd be the first to taste her fury
and surely cursed because of it
A hot December
let her mend your insecurity
Venom silk and opaque
Little gifts of naivety
a promise so soft
you never felt the fangs
administrate your fate

she is a happy ending,
not everyone can wait for.

you say my writing is
beautiful
but you forget that you’re
the one
inspiring it

i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.

When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting