Knowing you was a complete accident

I didn't mean to fall in love but it just kind of happened

But when I did I realized I was just a toy in your basket

You became my light which made me confused and saddened

I wanted you to know how much I cared

but you looked at someone else with a loving glare

In your eyes I know I was nothing
Just a toy to be played with
Not really much of something

I know I had to let you go
For I forgot what love meant

It's about sacrificing myself
And not making you an object

God is waiting on me, fully not partly

I have to give you up
I fell in love with you, I'm sorry

Little boy, go tell your mother
That the rains are coming,
And the horrible winds.
But don't scare her.

I press flowers because I like it.
The thrill of thievery, of plucking irreplaceable beauty from those who can't see it anyway,
wild eyes daring passing cars to not slow down
for the girl holding flowers between her teeth.
And I ran and I thieved for a love of my own,
a secret I shared only with passing cars and the once perfect gardens.

But I began to press the life out of beauty, to preserve it for you,
and my past theft seemed selfish, childish, and frankly, insane.
I still ran and I thieved for a love, just not my own;
Countless cherished petals fluttered to the paper as I smiled,
eyes glossing over each work of precious taxidermy.
Every page of crushed life spelled out anything for you
and my wide loving eyes could see nothing wrong.

As I ran, my long hair no longer flew in the wind,
the few remaining strands stuck limply to my wrinkled skin.
I grew weak, stems slipped through my desperate fingers,
so much beauty was too much for shaking skeleton hands.
My eyes barely opened and were coated in haze.
I searched for flowers but then found winter instead.
I heard August bees, but they buzzed around twigs,
couples exchanged bouquets of sticks and dried leaves.
My sight faded more, and I welcomed it, beaming.
Shrinking to the ground, all I saw were gray clouds:
the very clouds I used to not notice,
the same grayness someone taught me to love.

What can fool someone so far to think the sun has gone cold?
Was it August's pollen showers? Could they really be mistaken for snow?
Are sun scorched sidewalks so white-hot that they numb barefoot toes?
How can something pave the world in grayness and shadow even beauty that was preserved?
Can something so simple make gray clouds greater than gold?
But then why is it so terrible to see beauty in the dull?
It is love that can make gray clouds greater than gold,
but it is also love that can dim the rest of the world.

I still run and I thieve, but not for a love of my own.
I plant beauty on every empty doorstep,
for the love of others,/for others to find their love even if it is unknown.
Because I shook my bones until only pennies fell out,
but pennies are just pocketed rust to those who are afraid to love/ to those who have no time to love

i.

at the edge of a dark sky,
where the framed door
lies closed and the
rain’s smooth octaves
gather the last lonesome
heart-beat of the summer in
its mists that tap the door,

ii.

the grey air,
cloud-drawn, straps
its satchel to its back
its stones the silvers
of a silent moon,

iii.

its stones sombre and smoky,
the dead of night,
a crimson king
a blossoming flower,

iv.

where the night’s slated
roof listens to the rains
urgent rushings, silver
and shaded like a storm,

words of the air
sinking back like the
desolate waves that hush
the sands as they drown
their sorrows in baskets
conjured out of the breath
of the grey-eyed night.

v.

you kiss me and i start to
swoon, i swoon like a garden
rose that climbed once to
the sky, a garden overgrown  
with the quiet of apple-coloured
leaves, the summer with its vines,
its leaves the bright rain drops,
its leaves the visions of the air.

Having Depression is like finding out that mermaids are real
It doesn’t make sense to you until you’re getting dragged to the bottom of the ocean
And then you think
Oh
That’s what this is
And I’m drowning now,
That’s just……… great
And eventually, with your last vestiges of breath left
You float back to the surface
And you’re fine.
And that’s it.
Mermaids stop existing again.
Because you never actually saw what grabbed you
You only felt the claws around your leg
The cold, clammy hands tugging
With a force that you could never fight against
But you never saw her
So it was all a dream
Right?
And it happens again and again
You are drowning again and again
Until the water begins to feel like home
And the only thing reminding you that you are alive
Is the burning in your lungs
And when everything you had balanced so very carefully starts falling
Off the shelves of your life
When your “mild” depression starts deciding it wants to be more
When being alone makes you feel dead inside
And when losing your cool for one ******* second makes you contemplate your own demise
When do you admit to yourself that you are slipping
You are sinking and just because you can slow your descent
Does not mean that you’re not still drowning
And at the end of the day just because it took you longer to get there this time
Doesn’t mean you aren’t still lying on the ocean floor
Devoid of light and sound
And if you had just climbed onto that now distant boat and sailed away
You’d be fine.
But climbing was too hard
And sinking is so much easier
And you’re scared that if you reach out
Your hands will feel clammy and cold
As they wrap around your friends throats
And drag them down with you
And you would rather rot at the bottom of an endless sea
Than let that happen
So you lie in darkness and wait
For a sound
The singular resounding sound
Of failure
And you slowly float back to the surface
Take a deep breath
And you’re fine.
Because mermaids aren’t real
It’s all in your head

The devil resides on a fence post,
covered in honeysuckle and black berry vines
Across the dirt road in front of my house
He squats there,
atop that post
With his beautiful grin and blue eyes
He has demples when he smiles,
and hair the colour of hay
His voice,
is that of silken sin
Offering up a drunkenness that the finest of whiskys can't give
He drowns me in satin,
posing promises never kept
He bruises peaches,
and feeds on flames
Beckoning my flesh,
with the sharpest of silver blades~A