Behind the glass,
The depths of the valley
Seem vast and unyielding.
But from within it,
The shadows of the hills
Are coldly welcoming.
Sunset,
Take me home.

It hurts my head to miss you
It hurts my heart to kiss you
I just can't seem to win.

The cold will always exist
It will always find us
It'll wrap itself around our frame
And squeeze until we're dust
And the agreement we had with fall
Will always break our trust
And like the leaves
We wither away
Lost.

I'm drowning in your moans
Every word that melts from your lips
Floods the room about us
Suffocating me into believing
That I would be satisfied
Spending my last moments
Staring into your eyes
Breathless

On nights like this
Tired eyes reminisce
Of a former life
Like French doors opening
To familiar gardens
Where prunes grow on fingers
And lavender blooms
In the iridescent luster
Of warm water droplets
Serenading shoulders
Where reason and chaos blend
Into peach white tea
Swallows carry songs
Through their wings
Stirring decadent incense
Of exhaling trees
Sunlight waltzes with
Saturated leaves
Their indelible patterns
Rhythmic marigold sleeves
Carefree meanders along
Luscious promenade, swathed
In pomegranate-stained poppies
Ripe for the picking
In them, a fragrant ecstasy
Alive inside this memory

How can you take
A knife to my chest
And be confused
When I say that
I'm broken?
I never asked you
To dress my wounds
Or undress my soul,
Yet the very hands
Holding me together
Are the ones
I'm afraid of.

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

When my body and soul
No longer entwine
What will become of my spine?

Does it sigh solaced croon
A hymn-silken harpoon
Propelling me
Through
Threshold everlasting?

Or will it crumble by piece
Like moldy blue cheese
Marrow vinaigrette feeds
Famished nerve roots
And dirt
Absorbing lost life,
Fueling the Earth?

Perhaps a doctor
Will pass it along
Loaded syringe,
Silver and mauve
Into flesh as fresh
As death’s final breath
Enervated vertebrae
A-positive strong

Or maybe it retreats
Into shadows sea-deep
Steel-tipped discs
Flash of shimmer
As they sink
Footholds for lost souls
Sin-dark landmarks
Untouched by warmth
And
Unseen by stars

Tell me I’m the moon,
Baby,
That I pull you in
That I’m only reflective
Of that shown upon me
That nothing warm
Will stay

Tell me, baby,
That you’re the stars
A vast, luminous galaxy
That your black satin backdrop
Won’t swallow me blind
And spit me out
Grey

We suffer in silence
Still, we speak
But rare are we heard
And of that moment, we dream
Of gratification,
Validation
Of anything that will make this all
Make sense,
Anything that will make this all
Worthwhile.
We dream of that place
That will never exist
Of the place that simply
Cannot be
Our nights despondent
Still, we dream

The sun will always rise
Will always reveal
What we've failed to hide
When it is seen
With whiter eyes

At times, I'm jealous
Of innocent lashes
And soft cheekbones
That lure you in,
For I was graced
With no grace at all.
But I was born
With fire in my eyes,
A razor sharp tongue,
And an insatiable hunger
That will not succumb,
And of that,
I am proud.

I've never felt so tranquil
In my very own skin;
I would shed it
And grow another
Just to feel this way again.

Who would've thought
That the rising of your chest
As you take each breath
Would keep me awake?

The sound of your pulse
Holding you here with me
Makes me thankful
To go without sleep.

I can't help but notice
How much harder
The rain hits my face
After I've sinned.
And if there's a God,
He hates me.
No prayer can acquit this hatred.
There's no hymn to heal my wounds.
I'm surprised I haven't burst
Into flames yet.
They'd probably dump water on me
And call it a baptism.
Reborn, renewed, refreshed, my child.
Who made that water so pure?
Who died and put you in charge?
Go ahead,
Recite your verses and preach your sermons,
But the "Body of Christ"
Is just a piece of bread.

We waste expensive lipstick
On cigarette butts
That are thrown out the window
And somehow ignore
That we do the same
With our lovers

Tell me, love, is it worth the fight,
To return only to you each night?

Tell me, love, is it worth the pain,
To examine your face and discover disdain?

And tell me, love, when I say goodbye,
Will you even care to ask me why?

I am the liquor
I am what draws the heat
From your core to your limbs
Allowing you to believe
That the chill in your bones
Has finally fled,
Leaving behind an empty stomach
A hollow reminder
That what's killing you
Will never itself
Be dead.

You only show your face
When it's hidden by the night,
And I seem to be on
An insatiable search
For some sort of sunrise.