Too quiet or too loud.
    Too aware of my surroundings or too far into        
    my own head.
Too social or too isolated.
    Too distracted or too focused.
Too anxious or too emotionless.
    Too awake or too tired.
Too giving or too selfish.
    Too many thoughts to speak or too little to
    form a sentence.
Too easygoing or too manipulative.


             Too much. Too much. Too much.

Were you a summer citrus fruit?
I'm unsure.
You struck me with a sweetness
So demanding it curled my tongue;
Flooded my mouth with hours of sunlight
And warmth.
I peeled you eagerly down
Knowing each sliver as I handled it
Consumed with the simple scent
Of something so pure and clean.
Eagerly cast aside, I exposed
The sweetest secret
And felt your balmy flesh with my fingers
Learning each groove and plain
As if you'd never wither.
Silken skin brushed my lips
And I felt the hours of  sun,
The showers of rain that resonated
In each pace of time that shaped you
Into the gentle perfection before me.
Tasting all of that, I swore you were a flavor
Somewhere between citrus
Summer grass and lilac.

Were you a citrus fruit?
Who knows,
But in your absence
Any sweetness has been a
Vague reproduction
An echo of a necessity
That tasted of luxury.

Winter has settled in
And paley, I am deficient.

There will be no sleeping
As the same old feelings start creeping up my spine
I'm trying to unwind
Yet I'm anxious
Fidgety
There's no room for rest in this queen size bed
As my heart continues pumping this ache to my head
And my mind
Ever so stubborn
fights it instead
An age old battle
Between logic and emotion
If only I could apply
The same unwavering devotion
to something other than insomnia
So I'll let out a sigh...
There's no room for tears
When the what ifs and the whys
Are a pointless endeavor
So my mind will continue
To persuade my heart to sever
This anchoring string
That's drowning my soul
And this whole weighted memory
Will be a fling
In the graveyard of my past lovers.

She was nature, beautiful
But deadly, her cheeks as
Scornful as a rose, the smile hid
The thorns underneath.

Her presence though unseen,
Could be felt, like the sun's warm
Breath on bare winter skin.

She led him somewhere secret
As the night lures the stars,
As clouds gorge on the
Fragile light of the moon.

Over the crumbled bodies
Of leaves, into the alien
Land of tranquility.

When he woke, hands burning,
There was nothing left to see.
Only a faint feeling glistening
In the air, a failing heart and
A tongue full of dreams.

We’re painting the roses red
Because the white isn’t good enough
It’s too innocent, too pure
It’s petals not yet touched by the crimson dripping from our hearts
What hearts?
Hearts we build out of plastic
So that bullets shot at us leave no drastic wounds
Only indents
Nobody says anything
We wrap lace around our rotten cores
Hopeful that beautiful will one day mean forgotten
And our mistakes won’t haunt us like stairwell ghosts
They’re band aids we place on each lesion
Doing whatever it takes to create shield of armour for our castle
Can’t you see you’re a castle?
A castle built on top of the ground you were pushed down upon
Where the white roses grow
Words are like arrows aimed at your throat
And you can’t breathe so you close your eyes
Covering your ears like a worried toddler
You hide and inside you build treehouses
With signs that read “No Trespassing”
Throwing stones at a fleeting reality that begs to be let in
But you’re terrified of what you’ll find waiting
Because you’re still just a child
Aren’t we all children?
Children left timid and quivering
Who pity themselves as lesser beings
Two halves in two worlds
Built only on broken roads that wish to bring harm
And their arms feel weak from reaching both distances
Somewhere along the way their compass was smashed
One hand pointing north, the other south
So they call themselves worthless and keep their mouth shut
But why does that make them the lamb and you the lion?
A lamb that counts their scars as they grow
And notice they all look like people
Snakes in mankind’s clothing
Who asked you to love them but their fangs sank too deep
They couldn’t see your innocence bloom in each petal
They assume that your heart is as damaged as them
Admiring the view of rose covered gardens all painted red
Where everyone wants to be different or dead

She helps me escape reality,
Her voice is my lullaby,
Her eyes are asthenic,
Her lips is my firepower,
Her nose gives me grace,
She's my cosmos.