Your eyes
Are the most gorgeous shade
Of home,

Complemented perfectly
By
A smile the colour of love.

I could fill
All the space between the stars
With the things I don't know
About you,
And I think that's pretty poetic
On it's own.

After all,
Isn't your mind like a galaxy full
Of exploding stars and
Undiscovered worlds?

A galaxy waiting
For somebody daring enough
To explore your beautiful
Endlessness.

They say
Good things take time.

Like a season dying
And a new one being born;
Like falling in love
And saying it aloud.

But there is wonderful,
Unfeasible,
Beauty
In the most evanescent
Simplicities.

Like sunsets
And summer storms;
Like snow falling
Only to melt away in the morning.

Like your fingers wrapped in mine,
Like the way you smile when I smile,
Like kissing you…

Yes.

Like kissing you.

On stormy nights,
I only have to look at
your limitless eyes
To know that
the stars still exist.

Yes,

At times she was the fierceness of a storm
but when need be
She could hold the tears of a generation
on her fingertips

and separate
love, from sadness,
pull pain, from dreams,

and sew them together

into a life.

I want to kiss you
Under a streetlamp at midnight
And suffocate in
Your molten breath.

I tore myself open
so that you cloud see how broken I was,
And instead of running away;
You stayed.
You stayed and you healed my heart
with parts of yours.

I cup my hands when you speak
so that I might collect your words
and use them as a beautiful ink.

Hold my hands
And tie
Our shoelace fingers
Into knots,

So that I may never
Leave your side.

You've embedded your
Smile into my
Pillow,

Like
Your laughter
Into my mind

And
Your words
Into my heart.

Seen through your
Peculiar eyes,
Is a mind
Full of pink skies
And
Vivid
Constellations.

For all of you
Who were born with cocoon hearts,
Breathe now
Or forever hold
Butterflies in your stomach.

Picture perfect child,
Loveless
By her father's
Standards.

You don't
Need to change
Your
Precious Heart,
Just to
Satisfy
A man.

Sometimes I take my pen
and hold it to the sky.

I like to pretend that
I can write poems on the atmosphere
And draw shapes in the clouds.

I guess that's just my way of
trying to change the world.

You were one
Of seven stars
In the sky,
Bleeding life into
The endlessness.

Until you gave
Your last breath
And left us with
Six stars
And a beautiful death.

Hold my hand, Love,
And run away with me.

We'll run and run
Until we've run out of time itself.

Summer is over now,
And a lonely leaf
On a winter tree,
Like the lonely tear
On your spring cheek,
Is stolen by
An autumn breeze

Lay me down
On a bed
of headless roses,

So that the thorns
Will hold me tight,
and never let me go.

It would be a waste of time
Trying to hold her within
The confines of a metaphor.

The green in the leaf dissolves once more
The skeleton concaves and pulls itself apart
Hidden in the tree is a forgotten name
Carved into me and burnt in the dark


The seasons change and come again
Life without bones to grind and shatter
As peace is rare, so unlike pain
Rain crashes down and each drop splatters


But


Once again the branches break
Given time, I will not grow
Like brittle frost, or tired men
A tree is dying in the snow


After all of this time
When the trees all fall
I will not be crying
No, not anymore

her top was yellow;
the same as my socks.
i noted that in my mind as fate.

reluctant to argue with divine intervention,
i told her that yellow was my favourite colour,
not necessarily a lie, but rather a brand new truth.
she smiled, and told me she liked baby blue;

the colour of my shirt.

our first child was given a green blanket by an aunt.
purely coincidence, i thought, or maybe this really was fate.

it was my new favourite colour.