Sometimes I still do
I don't because of the pain
My loved ones would face

So far the ground appeared
never thought I would see again.  
World seems so much nicer
from afar.

All it took was one sparkle
from one star.  
Clouds swept through
and through--
a transparent bloodstream
casting me into delirium,
dancing the sky
carelessly.

But flight isn't my course,
I cline with
the wind's will
and wisp.  

This descent
all too familiar.  
I will not return to
what grips me down,
that which grips us all.  

Let this coming clenching
have but one final victim:
My breath.
Allow my exhale
to rise in its departure
so it may stay
lost in the cloud,
a haven I forever seek.

Dear Life,

Can you drop the charade
and numbingly bathe me
in the musical fantasy I seek?
I fear reality has too many hooks and shards
for my light, thin balloon to handle.
I would rather fade with Mother's breeze
than burst underneath
this deep, dark ocean.

Here I hear
Those foul voices
in the air.
Spitting putrid
Toxic to the ear
Nearly as much
as the mind.

Purification expensed
for the sake of inner chaos.

There's a storm I face
Night upon night
When the vacant spots
must be filled.

Desire yields growth
for these cavernous seeds
Roots sinking
every passing moment
Left to waste.

How warm I feel
lit like a fresh candle.
I illuminate in anticipation
longing your graceful presence
dawning within me
a long yearning.
Sensation pierces my chest, unfurling
a tranquility that soothes
my newly welcomed scars.

I'm overcome with breathless desire
for we, two pieces in the puzzle
to at long last conjoin.  
The time till now
may seem brief, yet sights
are but faint fingerprints
when feeling one's whole hand.

With you there's comfort and care;
I'm convinced dreams can be lived
experienced in full
even when we're awake.

Trust me,
I am willfully overwhelmed
by your shimmering glee.
When you approach, I feel
like a lit match
easing me into a euphoria
one should never be without.

And suddenly, so subconsciously
trouble fades into the eternal night
while our fire grows
small in size yet vast in volume.

We all know this feeling
upon certain loss.
Our essence, our vitality
vanishes as wood does
upon the death of the fire
that burnt it before.

We become hollow,
Doubting any substance remains
within our closest, tired caverns.
What's unleashed can't be physically seen
and yet it trivializes
the most gruesome of bloodbaths.

At times--even all times--
we wish we would bleed
rather than cry
so our hearts could donate what we lost
to the dry, coarse dirt.

But don't wither yourselves so,
for none should crack
with the frailty of a shell.
The roots may be ripped,
yet the seed may still be planted.
And with no sunshine,
a sunshine we begin shunning,
the rain of our tears can never cease
to allow our true pedals to finally blossom.