Some nights, I would set sail
To a thousand words on paper,
And one by one, they would get lost
Beneath the rip tides of your skin.

In sentience and in sleep,
Darling, you are only as real
As the last verse I wrote
On the crumpled walls of dusk.

While the world slaughters dreamers,
I watch you, begging the moon
To drop pieces of itself on sea foam.
I am a slave to your every step.

Tucked underneath crystalline sighs,
The stars would come out to put up tents
In the corner of your eyes, their light
Guiding the way for misguided missives.

Moored to your voice, I listen
As you speak in the language of waves,
Your words undulating with my metaphors,
But stirring holocausts for the heartbroken.

But you are here, and the lines between your eyes
Get tangled up with thoughts bred by midnight.
Your hair, your hair, they tessellate and play
With the colors of honey and amber.

Perhaps, if one were to crack you open
The light of a thousand adjectives
Would come seeping out of your skin.
I am but the shadow it will cast.

And in shadows, they whisper
That dreams can get lost
In the vacancies of the night.
Every night, with you
I set sail to my words
To find them
And lure them back.

She didn't know why
but within the simple act
of a man taking off his belt
lay all the terrors in the universe

   But one day
this woman
she refused to be afraid for even
one more minute
   She refused to give sway
to fear anymore
   She refused to be a doormat
for one more bad egg
in the locker room
  
   She refused
to be
a fashion
accessory

sometimes boys will whisper  
i love you's too quickly
and you, anon, will believe them
with your gentle heart, and
capacity to believe in miracles.

sometimes the first guy isn't
the only one,
sometimes you didn't like him
to begin with and that's okay.
i know you wish it was that easy.

people say to look for love
in all places, but love likes to hide
in the nooks of bookcases,
in cars parked under trees,
in his reflection in the rear mirror
as he glances to see you
walk past with your heels too high,
and smile too giddy.

but that wasn't love.
love is mutually shared.

sometimes you fall in love
and it will hurt worse than that time
you broke your wrist.
you will shake with tremors
of madness and you will
remember his name.

it's like hearing a song
you haven't listened to in years.
something jogs your memory
and you still remember the lyrics.
you will list his hobbies,
his favourite colour, with
perfect memory.

anon, you keep finding love,
and you keep losing it,

but be patient, please.
when you are ready
tell love to come another day.

my body is a phantom limb.
sometimes I can feel myself
being the person I wish I was.

It's a messy Monday morning,
with the blinds still closed to avoid the light.
It's the stumbling out of bed that makes you wonder why you're not dead.
It's the contemplation of existence,
not caring what's next.
Not caring your pay cheque could make a difference,
Not caring you're wearing a brandless tee and certainly not caring about the ******* on TV.

It's rooted from where you came from & why she made it but not you,
How being breathless occupies the entire room.
pacing your palms over your head trying to figure out why you're not dead.
It's a messy Monday morning because you lied to yourself yesterday when you said: "only one drink."
Because you couldn't seem to figure out where things were headed & maybe this time, today would be the end.
It doesn't make sense so it's better to lay in bed.
It's not better but it's easy,
It's easy to believe the monsters in your head are only alive to just be friends or that your nightshift job means more money in the end.
To an end the priests have worked on,
To satisfy believers,
Fulfilling their needs.

It's a Godless world,
It makes no sense.

You feel a storm in your stomach,
It fumbles your insides
And pours down your face