I've never been to grand central station, I've never been to New York In that manner
I feel as though I have
Each and every look in your eye
A waterfall of sight
A sense of holding on to something that I've never quite held on to.
Privileged
I felt invited
Nothing much to do
Sharing a plate of solemn stares
Neat folded napkins morsels of thought
Tasted; retasted
Ordered in haste
Perhaps it's the hope of holding on to something
A present wonder soon to become future past
No longer a reminder of empty hallways
A Lack of empathy now filled with each other's presence
Across a table three shades of red
Varnished in clear coat
Lamented with crumbs and coffee stains
Padded iron wrought seat
Neat tiled floor
The press of nicotine against scented lips
Listening to the way you talk
Winged heels
Exploring a Cathedral of thought beside a pillar of marriage proposals
Lovers running late, lost luggage.
The coming and passing of faces
The unraveling of plastic; the sound of smacking lips
And here we are with nothing better to do;
Watching life through another's eyes

The one you seek, hides.
You linger about searching.
Pink packets of sugar.

Before I knew it.
I pressed send.
A long text meant to be erased.
Thought about,
Re-thought about.
I smiled before thinking about
The initial reply back.
My heart sunk.
Sick.
Constantly thinking.
The buzz of notification.
Exactly what to do when her face shows on my screen.
Exactly how to play off
The only voice,
The only face that mattered this time of night.
To be honest, I wasn't sure
What I expected to see.
Of course lying to myself.
My pinky underneath the phone
For support.
Waiting for reply.
A mental continuation
Bringing another thought to the message sent.
Fighting the urge to send Lol.
I sat almost a lifetime.
The same heart wrenching feeling.
The moment you realize you lost your phone.
Or my case.
A brief text denying all evidence of what stares at her nose.
Brightly lit.
Signifying what I saw
When she'd call, when she'd text.
That same delicious smile I'd heart over a million times.
All reserved for future reply.

She felt my thirst.
Grabbing my legs lifting me in the air.
I had no idea what was about to happen.
The plastic removed from my face, the breath of life.
I felt comfort in her hands.
The places that were cold were no longer.
I've never felt a warmth like the one she provided.
The softness of her hands.
The way I sunk into her eyes.
For the first time I felt special.
Like my voice could finally be heard.
My thirst forever quenched.
Head driven first into a glass of milk.
I drunk until my head swelled.
Her hand never leaving my side.
Although I drunk my body remained slim.
No matter how self conscious I felt she reassured she would always smile.
I swirled in emotion, an eternal need that would forever be purpose

As long as you're away
I will continue to look up at the sky
Longing that you'll gravitate back to me.
Even though you're far,
You're never at all that far from me.
For in my deepest thought I am curled up
in the brightest star that I named after you.
No matter how dark the sky I will always find you.

Gazing back upon me, curious as to how we travel so many miles.
In so little time.

Even on the darkest night
I know that you're still there.
Your love the brightest of stars.
As long as you're away
this star is always closer than it appears
No matter how far you are

In the very same emotion that's broken my heart.
I have found smile in the replacement of grief.
Of all things pretty.
Your smile is still one that heals all pain.
As the moment currently stands.
To fully understand your opinion.
For the moment I am open & free.
Perhaps more than I have ever been.
Your smile being saving grace.
The wind against my face in a moment of stillness.
In the very same emotion. Your smile the most beautiful scar I'd ever remember.
Not at all ugly or painful reminder.
But a time I forgave.
Her smile the biggest contributor

She took me sight seeing
The city of her heart-
My hand clinched tight in hers.
A celebration of eyes held tight.
Our smiles bright,
Navigating the twist & turns of the street.
Champagne & beige buildings.
The wind snapping between our faces.
It was beautiful
Seeing colors and shapes this way.
A moment filled with pedestrian eyes.
Our steps the very throb of the city.
Of all the streets
There was one rough patch.
Of all the buildings, all the pretty lights.
This one rough patch in the center of the street was my favorite.
Though she hated it.
It was my favorite part.
To be honest I don't know what or why I was drawn to it.
To me it just felt real.
Night or day
It reminded me of home

Out of the many inhabitants
Of your heart.
I still pace the downtown streets
Hoping to see your face among the
Crowd.
Whether you are leaving a plate of pasta
Or I catch you walking past the side of a building.
Of all the places I've been
I enjoy being here the most.
If by chance I see your face,
Whether you are alone
Or with company.
I'll keep my hello short
Around the landmark of your dimple
Most of the flights I'd like to take
Really are affordable

I adore you
More than I could have ever thought.
When time runs short & you have to go.
I say a prayer to myself, let us stay this way.
We have a lot in common and so much more to discover.
Regardless of what you tell me
You are all to perfect.
In times of anger I grit my teeth but look to you
for the same answers I seek.
The moments we lose sight of clarity and begin
to hate one another.
With you in my arms, only then are things clear.
The way you look at me.
The things we share.
Without doubt.
I have won an all expense paid vacation.
Every time you laugh.
Every time you smile.
The food I eat.
To everything I drink.
To see all of you even at times we become short at each other.
I am living my wildest dream
When I am with you

She fed my soul with the
Kindest of hands.
Revealing a hunger I didn't know.
I ate from her hands,
Knowing the pieces that she gave
Were near & dear.
I ate expecting her to stop.
Seeing past her body,
These beautiful hands.
I'd wave my hand to stop
But instead she smiled and continue to give more.
She gave pieces of her soul.
Her hands like spoons,
Blowing the pieces that were too hot.
Easing them into my mouth.
Her hands like home
The heartbeat I knew with in.
Warm, comforting.

when I am running on fumes
you fill me up.
igniting my engine to throttle a bit harder.
A bit faster.
you rev me up regardless the number of bumps,
regardless the amount of twist
and turn, in the road ahead.
my heart belongs to you.
propelling me towards the sunset.
the reason I speed down the street in this passionate flight.
Not afraid to jump any unsuspecting hill.
most might think that I am crazy, the way that I drive.
if they knew the reason why, they'd press the pedal down
as well.
when I am running on fumes, rev me up, rev me up.
Darling rev me up.
I am a well-oiled machine with a place to be.
whether towards the moon or the sun.
you're the gasoline that ignites the spark
that pushes me to go a little further.

Your voice forms the bricks
Of a well built home.
It holds in warmth on a hot day
And stores heat on the cold days.
Your voice is a shelter
One that thunderstorms should fear.
Regardless of strength.
Once it dissolves.
Embers of warmth
Still reside within the bricks.
When you speak,
I find that I am home.
A place I am whole.
A place I am safe.
I always know where you are.
Even with both eyes closed.
Between the mortar of bricks
I find your breath
And lay my head beside yours.
The walls a rich tapestry
Framed in communication,
Filled with your breath and pulse.
I live in your marrow.
My every forgotten dream
Rested and remembered.
Your voice forms the bricks
Of this well built home.
Reminding me
That love. Is not just a word

I love you as a rose with soft petals,
I bathe in your perfume without pride.
Not knowing where you nor I begin,
A bridge made from head to toe.

A stem grown in everlasting patience
Without pestilence, without secret

I love you as a rose with soft petals
My heart providing shelter,
An overwhelming need to protect you.

I mold my lips against you.
A nature no longer absent between you & I.
Having known the spontaneous eruption
hearts can provide.

My heart overhead
Providing shelter in not so private joy.
A wine made from your lips.
Tasted over & over.
Little trickles that sit close.
Explored deep between you & I

I love you as a rose with soft petals
A bridge made from head to toe.
In a garden run deep.
My love for you permanent
Careful not to wither away in undying mystery

It's true though.
Any happiness you felt began with you first.
You didn't wait, you rephrased it as a smile.
Straightforward really.
You felt a way because my passion could never justify.
Only reinforce what you felt to begin with.
You felt a way because you respect yourself to be yourself.
The emotional boundaries of your well being.
Thus I awaited your permission before taking the first step.
Initially paraphrasing your smile.
The importance of being treated the way I'd like to be treated.
Holding your stare to create a sense of security.
A safety that went without ill-intention.
Not because you fill your jeans or the fact that your well put together.
What's meant to be is what's meant to be.
What's the rush.
Although true, you felt a way because I never crossed any of your boundaries.
A generational gap between "hey lets chill." and "I'd love to take you out."
The honesty of eyebrows highlighting life goals in full view of the sun.
Fully dressed.
Well groomed.
While the sky attends it's breakfast.
Reservation in the clouds.
The embodiment of grace

We've torn down buildings, and built new ones
Yet we have no foundation.
We are illiterate to what we truly feel and breathe unless,
It is seen else where first.
It too is a reality that we've created.
This feeling that can only be described in Braille.
We too are restricted.
These bumps that go unnoticed.
The mumps in the crevice we band aid until it's too late.
We continue to tear down these fortresses of ourselves.
What concerns most is that I see myself in you.
The same love and laugh that become the building blocks that haults the storm.
Yet we reject each other due to the mentality of our environment.
With lack of understanding,
We fail to embrace choosing the cause and effect of all differential.
We seek to destroy forgetting what's important.
We work against each other doing more damage that good.
We need each other to further emancipation.
To build one another once this storm reaches peak.
As simple as it sounds it becomes more complex.
To build a new building on top shakey ground.
Everything must be cleared out.
The participation of presence

The touch of lips- brief and soft.
There was no more grief.
This evening forever lost in memory.
Through the ripples of untroubled water, we sat.
The waves rolled closer.
Together we crashed by the pull of the tide.
Anxiously losing track of time.
The wave- thick, unforgiving.
Retraced its step.
And I forever lost.
Forever inhaling it's essence.
Forever remembering that night with closed eyes.

I sent a girl a valentine
Decorated with ink hearts
& ink smile.

I addressed it to her
Her name written as a rose.
Ink heart underlining the stem.

I folded the paper
& Cut it into a heart.
How clumsy of me to have
Cut so much off.

The paper unfolded into
five other mini hearts.
The biggest one being my heart.

I sent a girl a valentine
Decorating it with a trail that
leads back to my heart.
How clumsy of me to forget to sign my name

She showed me that being strong willed was hardly enough in the midst of her disaster, I've watched buildings falter beneath her steps only for her to then smile like nothings happened

You stirred the ***.
Taking parts of you.
Parts of me.
The good, the bad.
Even the things that aren’t
So pretty to look at.
And poured them into
The pan.
It’s easy to forget about
The hurt until you come
Face to face with it.
Sour peaches aren’t the end
Of the world.
No matter how we layer it.
These are the things we’ve
Come to love about each other.
Even the hurt becomes mixed
In a sugar glaze with enough time.
No matter how bitter.
The brown of my skin
Mixed with yours.
A recipe that’s been done
And passed down before our time.
No matter how much of a mess
We think that things are,
No matter how bruised a peach
We accidentally pick up.
Nothing can replace the warmth
Of a cobbler.
Straight from the oven.
Soon we’ll both be fast asleep.
Your head rising and falling on my chest
With each breath I take.

Her heart was like the eye of a needle and I the thread.
Stuck between *******, each time I'd get close.
I'd veer too far left or too far right, never in-between.
Nervous in motion A thin thread roped in ambition.
Though I loved her deeply I couldn't get her to see.
No matter how hard I'd try I always missed the loop to her heart.
The cold steel that looped in oval shape.
I've made peace with the thought that nothing lasts forever and though thread.
I've binded myself in knots, wondering if she ever saw me the way that I saw her, everlasting.
Believing that we could be woven in the thickest of bonds.
I loved her with the entirety of my everything I had to give.
Without arms I had nothing to hold above her head.
But no matter how many times I missed her.
Her shoulder became colder and colder.
My thread torn seam from seam.
It wasn't until then that I learned that somethings are better left untouched.

Conversations can occur in many ways.
Many the conception of one thing, used to justify another.
It tends to happen more commonly if not at all.
A certain honesty revealed.
In the consideration of intimacy
Without coming across as too overbearing.
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel,
Sometimes trapping ourself in the thought of someone else's happiness.
Obvious truths overlooked when the normal reaction is the total opposite.
The latter, already knowing how we'd like to be valued, received.
We express ourselves the same way.
Not truly knowing how it's to be received.
Obvious truths automatically assumed when true intention is revealed.
Instead we seek validation through a smile, a laugh.
Part of ourself hidden.
A habit of not wanting to project what we feel we lack.
Overvalued on whether or not happiness is then assumed,
Instead of saying how we truly feel.
We normally put ourselves on hold.
Fearing that our mouths may differ in opinion,
that how we truly feel.
May not be what the other person expects, or wants to hear.
Further putting ourselves at confrontation with what we truly feel.
Not truly knowing the risk that comes with how much we truly love
And how much sacrifice is required.
How often we express our likes and dislikes
How often do they go ignored
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel

I boarded a flight without intention on leaving.
Awaiting to see the sights I only dreamt about with someone I truly cared about.
I didn't care about the condition of the plane.
The tape stretched across the seat.
That odd rattling sound each time the wind picked up.
The experience of going somewhere new was all I cared about.
Taking the time to plan a voyage across the sea.
Maybe I should have taken more precaution.
Proofreading the Manual once more before taking flight.
Just once more to make sure I knew what each control did under any circumstance.
Boarding the plane.
Caught in deep thought.
Smiling behind the captains seat.
Just before taking off good
All my hopes, all my dreams came crashing down.
Being caught in a swirling gust of wind.
The lights across the dashboard lighting up.
I fought every instinct.
Ignoring that feeling in my gut that kept telling me to turn back.
Still.
I boarded the plane thinking that the only reason I feared not wanting to leave was for that of another.
Constantly grounded most of my life.
It came natural. A sudden fear arousing the very same gut feeling.
Lost in complete panic.
My world now spinning fast.
Tumbling down to the ground

My brain is still in prayer,
Following an apology for the same sin about to be committed.
Sort of like the reflections we see amongst ourself in other people.
Pointing out only the things we see in ourselves.
That sort of stand up comic that points fun of that one guy in the front row, never really taking in consideration that same guy could be waiting on him after the show.
That cynical psychology of growing up with siblings.
Would you think twice if you seen chickens standing out of a fast food place.
The ethical influence of hunger dissipating as they
Stand there patiently waiting for the unnext best thing.
Love is relentlessly blind.
A hunger that never really seems full.
Are we the glutens chasing something without a face only knowing taste.
Staring lovingly into each other's eyes but in actuality craving chicken.
What suppresses this urge.
Besides the hope that this Sprite isn't flat

The rumors are true,
Nighttime crowds, hand stuffed hoodies.
Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.
V neck t-shirts with decals printed on the back of them.
Sweatshirts. Loose cargo shorts.
The holiday of photo galleries captured between blinking eyes.
Tickets sold half priced.
Too bad movies aren't the way they used to be.
A stigma that everything around changes.
A few empty seats, one empty stall in the men's bathroom.
A exclusively graphic depiction of unzipped blouses, unbuttoned  pants.
Toilet tissue stuck to the bottom of worn shoes.
Suddenly there's a tote for whatever bag that needed to be held.
But then again we're just chatting, aren't we. Two souls with nothing to do but vandalize each other's mind.
Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.

Her love was rebellious,
Perfectly Defiant to man made testimony
Testimonies sent fluttering page after page handwritten by scholars without imagination.
Her love was rebellious
A pen waiting to be relived of its ink.
A stamp of emotion
Which leaves uncertain marks
Semi colons and closed parentheses.
The face of man left across
blue lines of paper.
Would she circumvent.
The page left blank lost in thought
Are we certain we are made in God's image
Man made names, submission to rebuttal of faith.
The alpha and omega extended with each reach of our hand.
A form of Religion beginning with each smile of her lips.
Branching from each thought of the red stem,
Three holes
Spouting lines of thought.
Doodles of string like hair.
Strings for arms, legs
Two circles used as breast
The details that make us so silly
Rebellious in the sense of drawing outside of the lines.
These fragile thoughts drawn on paper
With the concept
Nothing is as beautifully drawn as we imagine

And with the touch of her hand, the wall became a bridge

She was the smoke that arose from the tip of my cigarette,
Covering me with her essence.
Insisting that I wrap my lips around her.
I held her tight,
Staining my fingers with her.
Not once did she have to prove what was seen as clear she as could have indicated.
That she was mine just as much as I was hers.
A film of smoke dancing between us both,
I knew the damage that she caused internally.

Eternally. None of that mattered as our communication was silent.
Knowing what we both sought in each other.
Replacing my need with her very embrace.
Not once was it hard to breathe. Staining my lips with desire.
Thumping the layers of where we stood off into the wind.
Enticing me with the bright spark that set her ablaze.
The thrill of her knowing that I craved her.
******* her with my eyes.
Granting me the clarification of a moments peace.
I wrapped my lips around her,
Blowing her back out as the smoke that filled my lungs.
A lukewarm kiss, her lips pressed against mine.
We accepted each other as we were.
Standing in solace.
We no longer belonged to ourselves but each other

And for a split second I felt free.
Perhaps freer than I have ever been.
Relying on the shoulders of a stranger.
It couldn't have come at a better time.
The acquaintance of seeing yourself in someone else.
Perhaps it's better that I choose to not know you or this moment
we know as perfect
would come to a screeching halt.
Seeing you, seeing me for anyone you choose In the compassion of thought.
There we stood within arms reach, yet we embraced the full distance of privacy.
I mean after all would we truly come to understand each other if we tried.
Who's to say that full disclosure would lead to total certainty or uncertainty.
The question still provokes.
As uncertain as it may be, electricity is still dangerous.
Still it paves the way as a connection is sparked.
In the likely hood of a grounded current.
We'd be sure to cross again.
As sure as plastic melts, as sure as glass is soon to shatter.
Left ungrounded.
We all have a beginning and end.
In ultimate truth I agreed, in some form we continue to introduce ourselves to our former selfs.
To an extent, I admire addicts.
They aren't afraid to be who they really are.
And like that.
Two conductors were exposed to the repeated trace of static shock.
Exhibited behind glass in the most beautiful of explosion

She taught me
The unexpected way people fall in love.
To hear a voice croon a name so beautiful.
That you forget all the incorrect keys
it takes to create a masterpiece.
The refuge of having a piano fall on your head
At the most unexpected time.
All of the keys playing in the most beautiful harmony.
The way you say my name in un-orchestrated chaos

She wore a necklace of thorn
Protecting the petals of her face; soft folds of petal fluttering in the wind.
In a garden filled with pesticide she sought something pure.
Away from insecticide; A poisonous thought left to linger alone.
She'd often flirt with spurts of wind.

Seeking release from root to stem.
Although covered in thorns I kissed her without fear of being pricked.
Wrapping my hands around her body. Caressing the fold of her face.
Never knowing the touch of hands she nestled her thorns deep.

My hands leaked with affection, providing a warmth that stimulated root.
Far away from pesticide. Other insecticides that would ruin her beauty.
She nestled herself in my hand, creating a garden of her own

I visit this tree each and every day.
From the steams, to the fruit to the leaves.
Each part is a different part of her.
She blossoms in spurts.
Her leaves lost in the wind.
Hiding how ticklish she really is.
She keeps the best part of her high up on the branches.
Inspiring me to reach higher.
Knowing that arms reach wouldn't satisfy either of us.
Old pieces of her falling off to wither.Rot.
The parts of her that weren't ready to share.
I love every bit of it.
To sit and reconcile under the shade of her leafy dress.

Beautiful and strong.

We rustle ourselves in the comfort of each others company.

Taking our time to climb the ladder of branches.

I am always happy to see her.

Taking the seeds that she gives.

Planting them all around her.

Until we reveal everything there is, about ourselves.

In beautiful coincidence.

Taking our time to climb her beautiful branches

She filled the entire sky.
The fold of clouds evened out.
She smiled regardless of weather.
Her smile peeped through the cracks of closed blinds.
Peeked between open spots of trees.
Her smile bright for all to see.
Highlighting everyone around.
All seamlessly standing still.
It was easy to become lost.
A young woman with rosy cheeks.
At first glance her dimple shown.
The corners of her mouth spread far.
Her perspective of warmth.
A fire resistant to element.
Every branch traced by her essence.
She was free.
Appearing without forecast.
Her intelligence spread far & wide.
No matter the storm she exerted her dominance.
Her smile a halo everlasting.
Yellow and white exuberated by an inspiration of her own.
The news anchor predicted overcast
Still she shone her brightest

To be honest
You've always felt like home to me.
All of the familiar feelings that
rush when I am around you.
I can relax and be me
Without fear of judgement.
To look over at you and see you smile
I know that everything is ok.
There aren't too many places in the universe that
give me this feeling.
The want you, need you.
Can't be away from you.
A feeling of peace,
Being wrapped in your arms.
A place that's safe, warm.
The acceptance of everything that stands
outside of yourself.
Something out of the ordinary.
To look over at you and know.
Home is not that far away

Today without question
I placed myself in a glass jar filled with you.
With no way of closing the jar I left the lid undone,
Already beginning to sink
I watched you ooze out, spilling against the sides.
I sat puzzled as I sunk to the bottom.
Reaching watching those familiar parts of you slip through my fingers.
There was no way I could recover the parts of you dripping to the outer bottom of the jar.
Never once did I think to breathe

Her heart was but a loaf of bread,
Rather than cut herself in pieces.
She'd give the entirety of her loaf.
Each grain saturated in nothing but generosity.
The pride of giving your all without want for return.
It was this reason that butter knives and knives alike longed for her most.
To ease themselves inside her and melt away into the tenderness that only she knew as whole.
She harvested herself, knowing only the delight of what it's like to give.
Never knowing the emptiness of greed,
Not knowing the pain she'd soon receive

I love your light
The way it leads past eternal dark.
I really believe that this is the universe,
Expanding in front of me.
The best feeling staring right at me.
How beautiful, just to exist.
To not rush a thing.
Being known, a limitless possibility
Venturing past the impossible.
A type of love discovered after eclipse.
The way you sparkle, orbiting the entire world.
A world comprised entirely of you.
The region's shift, broken up in cosmic shift.
& I
Forever lost
In the scatter of shooting stars,
Beneath tectonic plates.
Your heart, your soul, the universe

This feeling only exists when I am with her.
This vibrant, pixelated world.
Filled with her attention.
When I am with her
I am lost for hours on in, exploring every inch of her.
My favorite escape, determined to prove myself.
Alone in a world filled with her,
I've fallen in love with every click of the button rapidly pressed.
If any of the cords should come undone,
I'll loose my mind.
Her heart ever so elusive.
Scrolling screen after screen
Yet I continue to scroll.
Lost in the only feeling that exists when she's around.
Unraveling my controller, plugging it into her heart

I watch,
And I pull different pieces
Of her out the bowl.
Somewhat tangled and a bit messy.
I twist her all up even more,
And put her in my mouth.
The steam rising fresh from her.
My mouth catches her,
All of her.
Hot, slightly salty.
I love the way she makes me feel.
Eventually, her ways will become mine.
She isn't just some mess in a bowl.
And although I am hungry,
The pieces of her that I drag to my mouth. Are moderate.
I've never tasted anything like this
Before.
She isn't just a quick bite
Of temporary need.
My tongue, my gut,
My soul loves this tangled goodness.
She is my safe space

I loved the smell of
Cookies, Valentine's day sale.
It's not February

Soon as I saw you
I began to follow.
Without regard of home,
regardless of how many steps
it took to keep up.
I can't exactly describe what it was.
It just felt natural,
to follow you.
My legs moving twice as fast
This need to fall in love in the palm of your hand.
I felt a sense of need.
An overwhelming sense to bump into your leg until you noticed
This piece of me that felt something was missing.
To follow your every command, be accepted as I am.
For now I am enjoying this stroll.
This trot hoping you'll notice everything I see when I look at you.
What ever you ask of me
My life made whole in a glimpse.
I don't know exactly what it was that made me follow you,
But I am glad I did.
Until I am old and gray.
I will always follow you

I needed this so much.
A little alone time.
Designer jeans.
T-shirts printed with out the blue sayings.
A moment to ourselves home alone.
Wasting time just you & I.
Causally stretched across each other on the couch.
Commercials filled with Wal-mart families.
Insurance companies. Lawsuit claims.
Your sugar fills the space between shows.
Your head leaned back on my chest.

Neck twisted in a kiss.
The TV more so watching us.
The wait of working all week for this moment of relaxation.

The anticipation of butterflies, late night texts. 
The vintage shows we grew up watching, still our favorite.
I really missed you.
Your shoulder my favorite pillow.
The extended twenty-first question of our 21 Questions.
Sitting here with you.
Soon to fall asleep with you in my arms.
To wake up and do the same exact same thing.

To let you know that I made it home safe

I am waiting on an angel.
I’ve paced around in wait
and feel no closer to when I first started
pacing.
no call, no signs of anything that smells like perfume.
she promised she'd be here.
maybe she's stuck in traffic,
or maybe she's the kind of angel
that doesn’t keep promises.

the last time I prayed I asked for a roof
over my head.
it took a while. it took an awfully long time.
my hands were shaking.
just when I was about to give up.
I got my house.
I have that same feeling.
god knows that I am waiting,
no matter how bad my hands are shaking.

still, I wait.
I don’t know how wings feel against skin,
or how soft they are,
but somehow, I believe she is near.
if she is not.
I do believe that something beautiful is possible.
even if angels have a sense of humor

I said to her
You know, you scare me
That in all seriousness
You may be that one girl whom pushes the one button no one has ever thought to look for

I'm not quite sure though
I mean the boss is around but no one thinks the possibility of saying
Hey what the hell does this button do.

Will anything happen at all

Will alarms go off, horns blaring
Arms tucked at our side running like hell
I mean if anything was to happen we could always blame it on the guy standing next to us
All in good fun,
I suppose persistence isn't the argument
A civil unrest that leads into the most random conversations
Appearing in the most oddest of places doing nothing
Riding the clock amazed at why we've never thought to do this before
The complacent thought

Not troubled by the thrill

a moth flies dangerously close to the flame

A constant change
The flame.

Existing in the real world
The trouble of time
To be honest life without you is simply boring
Wheres the thrill in anything
That chance in getting caught doing the one thing you truly want to do
The one track mind of micromanagement

The constant nag and *******
The leisure of it all
Without the need to look over our shoulder
Except sneaking over to the back office no one ever goes to

This is life with you

This is life without you as well

But now we can communicate.
I am not sure what cause this sort of block.
Under normal circumstances I suppose it's human.
To access so much of ourselves mentally.
Yet physically remain mute.
An attempt to be funny. Charismatic.
To yearn the manifestation of being represented such as a memory.
For some it's easy. It becomes culture.
Ignoring this association of fear.
Although slight. We begin to judge ourselves.
In fight beyond a couple of seconds that leads to bliss.
The things that have yet developed.
The possibility that things may not.
But definitely something is there. Reflected from the light of eyes.
Self doubt in light of holding back.
Yet we've evolved.
We've evolved into a splitting image of what we adorn.
The critique of what eyes see & what ears have heard.
We've thought in different ways of what binds.
Now we communicate.
To better service our needs, our wants.
We've binged them all.
Knowing all of our favorite parts, to speak hesitantly about the bad.
We recite them only in private.
Ignoring the kick backs and *** lucks that begin with pleasure.
It begins with the closed culture of what feels foreign
to no longer recite in mental.
Now we communicate

In the waiting room
The broken clock sits

In my mind
Seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
To watch the expression of depth.
Every wrinkle that crinkles the side of your nose.
The sentiment grown from standing so close.
Eyes grown in anticipation.
Every depth expressed.
Explored until we're tired.
In my mind
seeing you was the perfect form of communication.
It's only so much to do behind the screens of phones.
The customization of emojis plastered on blank screen.
A temporary thrill that we enact before actual contact.
In my mind we restrict too much of ourselves with the press of a button.
Cheeks spread loose, folds undistracted by the moment where we ourselves are drawn to life
By what we anticipate most.
Without need to talk as much as we can before an abrupt end.
To consider you without call waiting or the awkward feeling of having to call you back.
Malicious moments before the call actually goes through
The introduction of physical smile.
Separately from the window of a phone
Leaving more room for availability

She's the thought that occurs in my mind.
The one that shows up without warning.
A gallon of gasoline, a handful of matches.
The spark that ignites there is brighter than anything
I've ever seen.
Setting fire to anything that isn't her.
I couldn't have saved myself If I tried.
Watching everything reduce to individual piles of rubble.
Shes recklessly chaotic.
Perfectly complexed in the way that she stands.
Striking the head of the match on the bottom of her heel.
There she stands watching everything burn.
Covering herself with my faults.
There she warms her heart by the fire.
Stoking the fire with old memories.
Slapping my hand each time I reach for one.
She's that one thought that asks me to hand her more matches.
Paying no never mind to if she's burned herself or not.
Dousing everything in gasoline that surrounds her.
Her reply to everything.
Revealing a devious grin, extending her hand for more matches.
Theres no doubt in my mind that she's a devil disguised in angel wings.
Roasting her halo over the fire,
Soon to press against me.
Branding me with her everlasting essence

She was four and I was six.
We held hands and ate pixie stix.
The big head little girl whom followed me around the corner. 
Soon we became friends.

 

We held hands with skin like bricks.
I cleansed her hands inside mine.
The words we didn't know how to pronounce until we were older.
The house across the street covered in thick brick.
Our parents always pictured us together.

 

I cleansed her hands inside of mine. 
The big head little girl across the street.
Her hair in a tight colorful scrunchy. Hair spread all over her head.
We both had to be in before the street lights came on.
Head full of dirt.faces darker than they were before we met each other outside.



Our clothes covered in dirt and grime.
Our fingers filled with splinters.
The chime of laughs and smiles.
The big headed girl whom loved pink and purple pixie stix whom followed me around until the street lights came on.
She always gave me the blue ones and called me her friend.



I remember the time I never wanted you to follow me around.
Often threatening to feed you to my dog.
Pushing you off the swing.
Stealing your turn sliding down the slide.
You never let me go anywhere alone.



Here I am, now older. Picturing the big headed messy hair girl whom always followed me around.
Truthfully I never minded.
Even now, ringing your doorbell in thought

My beautiful rose
My beautiful rose

As beautiful as the day is long,
No one knows why she blooms.
She blooms through the storm
whether the vase is ceramic or poreclin,
My beautiful rose.


She is most beautiful because she isn't an ordinary rose.
She finds the sun in any weather.
She says more than what a dozen roses can say.
My beautiful rose.

Beautiful as the day is long.


By chance if you find my beautiful rose.
Speak to her in a language she understands.
A language only the heart understands.


She uproots her self and spreads her heart.
Finding the sun in any weather.
No one knows why she blooms
But by chance you see my beautiful rose
You'd soon understand.
Why she blooms the way she does

Spreading her joy.
The way she blooms
If by chance you find my beautiful rose.
You'd know exactly why she is my beautiful rose

He is her mirror,
The one she stands before
Whether things are good or bad.
Until she walks away,
She doesn’t understand
The cracks spreading
Across her face,
Ignoring the obvious
She applies more makeup.
Though she’s gone,
Her presence lingers,
Soon to follow.

In front of her mirror,
She could speak as freely
As she wanted,
Be seen for who she is.
In front of family and friends,
She’s quiet,
Acting out of appearance,
Ignoring the space, she thought
Was empty.

She doesn’t think about it
Until a friend brings it up.
Talking about her own love life,
A place she feels secure.
Her friend’s smile, big and bright,
While she speaks.
She thinks of him,
Her mirror.
No matter how bad she feels.
He finds a way
To make her feel better.
If something is off,
He’s quick to point it out.
He’s always there when
She needs him.
She never had to speak
To be seen when he was around.
The only place she only felt whole.
The cracks on her face shows