I make my way to the river
It's nightish noon
I've stopped crying over the way
You told me
I told me to be so

I make believe stars
And far between
Make-believe dreams

Nighttime
I take the notes
Of our loss
And make a song of gain

I love you
And I love you
But I don't mind you much

When the sand
Turns the

Storm

like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.

It's a straight fact
There is no fact for

The fact of the matter is

The angle of one's perspective
Concerns that of the matter:

A universal,
Ever-changing fact.

You tell me
I am.

I tell you
You are You,

But trust
Is weighed upon what is
Based off
What is decreed.

By whom?

The Tower of Babel was built
On the assumption
We needed to be validated
By the divine.

Why?

We were one. We were unified. We were on our way.

Yet, the old one's
Said, No, it's not enough.
We need him
To prove
We are we.

Nature
Always has
Their explanation.

Nature
Always has
Their provocation.

Nature
Always has
Their human extension

No matter how far
We choose
To separate.

Only You -
In no one's debt but your own -
Can define and discover
The multitudes of

What it means

To Be You & Me.

"So the LORD scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth"

Your love was almost warm
just like a summer breeze
that ruffled up my hair
as it hop-scotched through the trees;
Your love was soft and sweet
like cotton-candy tasted
I licked it slow and steady
so nothing much was wasted;
Your love was like a dream
so credible and true
but reality was broken
by things that were not true;
Your love was most deceiving
here today and gone tomorrow
now forgotten happiness
and a river full of sorrow;
Your love was grand deception
and ended in confusion
proving love is blind
and master of illusion.

even after wasted time
i continue
to waste
the day
away.

the blood drips
from my trembling fingers
painting red stains
upon the pages
of a chapter

a chapter
in my book
in our story
in which it has
already been written
already been read
already been
forgotten.

yet i still sit idly
with my head
against this wall
as the pit of fear
in my stomach
grows and deepens
and as the sun sets
beneath my windowsill

waiting for you.