There is something in a moment,
That just takes your breath away.

It makes you feel excited and scarred
At the same time.
It makes you want to scream at the top
Of your lungs how happy you are.
It gives you those good and bad chills
You know,
The good when you get your first kiss
And the bad when you lose a dear friend.
Positively, both are a blessing in disguise.

It makes you look up at the sky,
And wonder how amazing everything is.

It gives you the feeling of being loved.

It makes you think.
It gives you courage.
It gives you the strength to do things,
Things you didn't think you could do.

It shows you how to believe in yourself.
It helps you,
Teaches you,
Guides you
Gives you hope,
Gives your life meaning.

All these things are great.
But it’s not about all that.

When you are in one of those moments,
Just take another moment,
You have plenty to go around
And realize, this moment,
These amazing moments are happening because,
someone is giving it to me.

Someone is giving me all these amazing moments,
Because that someone loves me enough
To want to see me happy.

There are bad moments though,
Where you just want to escape

When you do find yourself in one of these,
Do the same thing,
Take a moment,
Think,
Cry out,
And that someone will give you a beautiful moment.

He is the only thing that makes the moment,
Worth living.

I don't know how to write happy poems
because I don't really believe in them.
I thought angst would die with adolescence,
but alas I can still feel its cold dint.

Perhaps like virginity this goes too;
no longer a creep standing idly by.
Plastic smiles taped to our cardboard faces
and yours alone I felt the need to prise.

That's okay, because the teenaged rosebud
that we claim to be so very unique
is beginning to wither, can't you see?
And now it's the thorns society seeks.

So look out over yonder cityscape.
Your mask shall be shed only by the moon.
Until then, a cartographer of love;
yours that is, we'll still pathetically swoon.

How do you know when you've gone mad?
Is it when you start to question it?

Does it creep up on your midnight pillow
ever so slightly
and drain your life like you use to gulp your morning coffee?
All while whispering in a form that could only be heard by wind chimes
expecting nothing less than what you've already lost.

Infectious with madness
A deal with the devil
A meeting of chance
A sound that should have been made
but on that very note it would all decay
amidst the stars that shine near the harboring bay.
No expression to convey.
If only there were another way
But like time, your eagerness whittles away
When theres nothing to say, no rock left unturned
you yearn
you yearn
Unlike others yours comes with disgust.
And by you I mean Me.