wrought iron spiral stair cases
kisses in the rain
ivy tendrils climb stone walls
potted Terracotta line the balcony
song birds sweep love in a summer breeze
a weathered violin sings its response
stars twinkle like string lights hung from the moon
floating rose petals fight gravity
in a tranquil budding storm
blooming surroundings become static
to thoughts and actions
nimble limbs name the only movement makers
but for dynamic art in this pastel piece
of stillness
at the secret garden ball

Forgetting there was a time before one existed proves how self-centered we have become

Sometimes when I’m feeling alone
I like to sit in my car with the seatbelt on
Because it makes me feel safe to know there’s something to keep me in place
When there’s no one to wrap their arms around me instead

i wonder if i run my fingers through my hair one more time if it will all fall out
I worry, will it be caused by stress or the aftermath of its effects?
turn my head
watch me crane my neck
self conscious nape tugs
my attention is nudged
don't stop
don't drop anything
roll forward like a steam engine
my head is spiraling off track
down the nerves of my spinal cord
prioritize high priorities
of a thousand column long list of
number one importance
to progress does not mean progress
alas, I digress

round silver rimmed frames fogged over
the intensity of a moment
he doesn't even see me
I am the moment
no longer am I a body among the masses
but a void, a whisper of a form
progression to salt rattled hair
plastered sweaty wet faces
painted in a scene of indie rock perfection
of a warm yellow button down over graphic tee print
shadowed against a black box
an icon crossing the length of the floor
two feet up this legend towers over me
the same unknown artist first to break the venue
then the chasm's sound barrier
He doesn't register my essence as he spits prophesy and misery
onto my lips
I taste his pain, his liquid energy
a romantic disgusting moment
shrill rages unbeknownst to him
I watch this fire breather feed smoke to a weathered metal trumpet
in between verses
his lyrics make love in the chambers of my heart
yet
a boy yawns as this man confesses devotion to the dark through a solo moment of past misery and heart break
it is messy and beaten
battered and degraded
together I stand not a foot away
close enough to kiss the microphone cord that dangles my face
toying with my nose in a way verse seems to surpass
we point back in agreement to every word he gifts us
agony never felt so comfortable

he says
to the midnight curtain above
but I just stare
onward and upward
at the lone tree top in the foreground of
the Blue Ridge skyline
laughing in its majesty
a lingering effect of the sun's disappearing act
I think its absurd
but maybe even more so that
I had never jumped in a car
down the highway racing the moon
to park in a field
and listen to the gurgling waterfall we were too late to hike up
so instead we stopped
and climbed on top of the car's hood
sharing a plaid sleeping bag
warmer than any other blanket I've felt
headlights catch my breath warmed by cocoa
but if I'm surrounded by stars that shine so bright I can see our smiles lit up
then who cares if I never see the sun again
I'll fall asleep on the car ride back and wake up to another night