I ask your advice time and time and time again because one day, I intend to tell you how I feel for you.
My dear, you are so wonderfully oblivious, that when I tell you my secret it will be that much more unexpected.
You offer wise counsel as if you know you haven’t got a shot in hell with me.
All along, it was you, my love.
It was always you.

Waller around in this pile of dust you’ve
been licking up.
Drilling deeper down into the dirt with a
forked, reptilian tongue.
Twisting coils of leathery skin ‘neath scales
of golden sun.
Swallow your tail, only to realize it’s how you’ll be undone.

Another sits near, watching you writhe,
the dirt dragging you down, out of sight.
She admires your determination, but you’d
call it fear, with your final breath to the light.

Pour yourself into the hole that opened
beneath you, a grave you carved out with your
scales, like shovels, your armor
broken now, you plummet down
spine emerging like soft palms reaching out
to catch you as you flail.

I will never forget the time you looked at me with sunset eyes, and
let the waves just crash around you.
They washed over your cheeks and swept you away with the tide.
I couldn’t help but watch as you were pulled under, like the sun below the horizon.

Here
       in
          your
                 arms,
this is my universe.

You are the stars, and my heart is yours, always, my dear.
This is the very definition of heaven on Earth.
The very definition of true happiness.
The very definition of true love.

As we roll around in
                                sheets
                       ­                 of
                                            infinity,
I can’t help but wonder:
How did I get so **** lucky?

I was the sea and you were the whaler.
You cast your harpoon into my waters.
It never did catch a whale.
But you caught me time and time again.

I love the thought of being the
             first
                    in
                       your
                            thoughts.
I truly admire the idea of being the
               pioneer
                      in
                       your  
                            mind.
And if I am not the pioneer in your mind, then surely, I am the pioneer in your heart!
I know this to be true by the way you look at me with your twisting, dark eyes.
The light that rests there is the light I put there.
And I will
                 cherish
                           that
                                 first
                                       forever.

I begged you to forgive the tears that rolled down my cheeks when I saw you again.
It has been so long and I’d almost forgotten the contour of your face in the moonlight.
If not for short notice, I’d have missed you again.
We always run in different circles, but tonight we seemed to cross paths.
You remembered every detail about me, love. Where to kiss, where to touch.
But every time we spend time apart, I forget where the treasure is buried in you.
Though, now I am beginning to realize it’s not in your body, but your soul.
Let this night be one to remember, not one to regret.
My dear, on the cold, bleak December evening, don’t you dare forget what I said to you when you held me closer than any clothes ever could do.
Don’t make me regret saying I loved you.

Can you take me flying?  
                              Like we once did?
                                    Could you take my hand and throw me to
                           the sky with you at my heels?

I fear I am sitting still,  like a lake gone stagnant.  
                                      And I want to feel the waves in my bones,
                  the wind in my sails,  again.

So let me fly, my dear, for I fear if I cannot touch the sun,  again, my spark will go out,  for good.

She lay on the ground, dirt collecting on her bones and in her hair.
Feathers and twigs scatter around her as the raven builds its nest.
A gentle breeze stirs up leaves around her.
It never served her to have a heart of gold.

Rock n’ roll music, Folger’s, and paint-smeared hands.
Dresser drawers filled to the brim with undeveloped camera film.
Blue bonnets and overgrown grass, pecans and crunching fall leaves.
Dirt roads and river-rocks, typewriters, polaroid cameras, and feather-quill pens.
Those hand-me-down blue eyes and brown ones that are “sometimes hazel.”
Crystal clusters and Lord of the Rings.
Countless mosquito bites and play-pretend games in the clubhouse.
Early-birds and night-owls.
Trudy; and Randy Hayes.
“Don’t touch everything you see,” and “If you say you’re bored, I’ll find work for you to do.”
Sweet tea and okra and southern dishes blackened and drenched in cheese or gravy.
Grandma always burned everything to make sure it was fully cooked, and to her, it was never burned, just “well-done.”
Cigarettes and carpentry and cookbooks. Wild blackberries and birthday parties at the lake.
Sleeping in all day and staying up all night and procrastination.  
Shepherd's Pie, potatoes, and four-leaf clovers.
“Nil Desperandum. Never Despairing.”  
I’m from a whole house that eats eggs for breakfast, and I’m allergic to eggs.
And trees as tall as buildings and buildings as tall as trees.
“You should never take the lord’s name in vain,” and “Jesus loves you, so you should love others.”
Day-dreams and stargazing and thunderstorms.
“All or nothing,” and “There is no try, only do.”
Old family pictures in dust-glittered frames.
We are crystals. We have facets, each one makes us who we are.
With only one window of our lives to express, we’d merely be glass.
I am a part of each of these things just as much as they are each a part of me.

Sometimes, I can’t help but dream of you in colors.
I wish only to be able to describe them to you, my love.
But the fact of the matter is this: there isn’t a single hue that would do your beauty justice.

You always give me butterflies.
Won’t you take them away?
I find it nearly impossible to think when my heart is beating to the rhythm of their gossamer wings.
And it’s all because of you.

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, and
I’ve realized there are so many strikingly gorgeous people in the world.
No, I am not talking about the long hair
Or the blinding teeth or the amethyst eyes, those lovely windows to the soul.
No, I am talking about the souls, themselves.
Beautiful, creative and unique souls comprised of the most exquisite stardust. It’s none of the things we call ‘beautiful,’ here on Earth, though the face of true beauty hides behind them.

You were an angel
but feathers fall like bowling *****
when the air is missing from the room,
from your lungs.
You gasped when I called you out, a
baffled sound, surprised more so, only by
the startling sensation of your wings being torn off.
Though, that warranted bloodcurdling screams,
and rightfully received them.
You had us all fooled with silken lies,
but Caroline Janeway saw you in the back of Al’s
Pool Hall in Roseville, Minnesota, back in 1994.  
And last I checked, heaven wasn’t in the back of Al’s Pool Hall.
She said that you were glued to the lips of some chick in a miniskirt,
that you looked like you’d had one hell of a time.
That’s when I put it all together: you weren’t an angel, you never were.
You’ve always been good at bending the truth, though.
Here I was thinking that you’d fallen from heaven,
but really, I’d just fallen for you.
Solitary walks through silent city streets seem to clear the air for me.
You needed to become a part of my past, but how
do I fix the damage that’s been done?
You had a broken halo and I, a broken heart.
I never knew you could be so savage.
The glittering look of endearment in your eyes was
lust and nothing more. I saw so much more.
You, Cupid, loose an arrow; though it sticks I can
no more than despise you, now.
I pluck it from my side, warm, sticky blood
running down in streams.
Janie would have fainted at such a sight.  
I’d stand frozen, watching it all unfold before me.
Your bloodied, pristine, feathers litter the ground.
There I stood, trapped by a web of lies.
Yet, la mia anima è libera, my soul is free.
I feel more weightless, now, than any feather ever could.
Though, I suspect that they feel freed from you as well.
You were never an angel but you fell from grace.
I hand you the arrow, dried blood covering the silver tip.

I poured myself out onto you, ink on vellum, your
skin gravelly, your alluring purr as smooth as silk and
soft as velvet, but as you folded me in your arms, my words
were lost like cries in the wind. For once, in a long time, I looked
at you, truly looked at you. I looked past the thin sheen of sweat at your
brow, like the dew on the blades of brown grass in the hot summer mornings.
I looked past the spray of freckles that dusted the tops of your cheeks and the bridge
of your nose, the freckles you loathed so much when you were just a boy because they
reminded you of flecks of glitter. I looked past the blonde locks that ringed your face like a
golden halo. Your hair is longer now, than it was, when we were kids, but I doubt that even
now, you’d let me braid it. I looked past all the little details I’d noticed about you
when we were growing up, and now, I saw a man with amethyst eyes and a
longing washed over me like a wave, pulling me down with the undertow.
I long to know this you as I once knew you, so well, like the back
of my own hand. So, with salt and foam, sweat and ink and in
every sweeping wave, drag me into those lovely amethyst
eyes. If the eyes truly are the windows to the soul,
pour in like a light and flood on the floor. Show me
what you’ve become, because, while I easily
recognize your flesh and outer
appearance, I long to know
you deeper than looks
could ever go.
Sink me,
show
me.

A cool September day we met, with the rustling of the wind, and the sound of closing car doors.

Now my heart’s desire is to know you more, to be found in you, and to be known as  yours.

To lay with my head on your lap, was all I ever really wanted do.                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                 
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­        A place where I can be safe.                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                    A place where I can be warm.      
                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                                  Somewhere I can let every care float away from my mind.

When I am with you, even breathing has a sweetness, to it, that I can't begin to describe.

My dear, you sway with the nervous passion of a thousand
winds.

Tell my why you are so anxious, when you carry their wishes on
your eyelashes?

She breathed with hurricane eyes and he fell in love with the way the waves crashed over her cheeks.

Darling, toss your                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                    hands into the sky
and let down the stars,
for the sting in
your bones may
always  be there
but wasps never
fly at
night.

There is a reason water is clear, and blood is crimson,                                                                                                             for it would be far too painful to try and see the truth in your veins.

The thought of you asking me to be your valentine sent butterflies up my spine and they went crazy in my stomach.

It's so funny, though, because you have been my valentine for so long already, and somehow you still leave my heart feeling completely and utterly enchanted.

I lay here before you,
              u n d o n e.
And it is my greatest fear.
        And it is my greatest desire.
Oh, my darling, set my
soul
      on fire.
How I have waited for this moment, how I have yearned to be so close to you.
For you to be so close to me,
for you to see
       me
in nothing
but the      pale light of the
moon.

All of the others can guarantee you the world.
But I can give you my heart.
I can't promise you fame or riches, but you will always be safe and warm and happy.
And even if you do not love me, I will  love you with all of my being.

"You are a breath of fresh air."  He said
     in a way that was unlike the way
                                   the others had put it.
"You are new air and new earth and
                                   you are the words that have not yet been
written.”
                            “ You are the beginning and the ending of
                                              a story that could never again be told.
You are as fresh as the rising sun and the winds that
                                         welcome it sweetly across the horizon.”
And somehow I do not feel reborn when
                                                               I am around you. It is like you are
                                                                           the
                                                           reincarnation
                                                   of some great ancient being, and
                   I am trapped behind the illusion that I am unique.
                                                My memories trapped inside a forgotten rebirth.
My words trapped behind
                                                pale yellow teeth, as if they are gravestones
                     challenging me that if I did speak,
                                                                    it would be the death of me.

"You write so beautifully, your mind must be a terrifying place," he
said softly, though he hadn't uttered a single word.

It was his eyes that spoke to her the most.

She surrendered herself to the tears that raced down her cheeks and smeared the ink on her hands.

Found prose in the Rahul Bansal quote.

"Tell me the sun doesn't shine when I am gone." She said softly, eyes looking up, earnestly at him.

"But it does, my dear, the sun shines all day long. And I am like the weary moon, who misses your warmth on those cold, dark nights. "

I dreamed you kissed me  and when I woke, I was unkissed, and alone.

So darling, kiss me now, kiss me like you did in that dream.

Kiss me with the lips you used to spit daggers and whisper secrets, and soothe souls.

Kiss me like the sky kisses the earth when the sun sets.

My dear you are like the sun and I am the moon, and my light aches in the shadow of your love.

She sang with a beauty that made the sun shine brighter with every tune that floated up to the sky.
But one day she stopped singing.
A strange little boy told her, that no one gave a single **** about her little ditties.

She didn't cry.

She simply stopped singing, and went on about her life.
She kept to herself and the world began to wonder why everything seemed so quiet.
Then the sun stopped shining.
He couldn't go on, making the world a brighter place, if she couldn't sing her songs to him each day.
One night, the moon visited the girl.

"My child, you know that the Sun longs to hear your voice again. Do not worry what little boys tell you, they cannot make the music that you can. This night will last for many years if you do not raise your voice. Go on, summon the Sun."

Reluctantly, she stepped outside, and with a rusty voice,  she sang as loudly and as honestly as she could.

And as tears rolled down her cheeks, the Sun rose in the east, with tears that evaporated into steam as quickly as they came.

And the strange boy fell in love with the way she looked
to him when she sang to the sky.

Tell me, my dear,   why      you keep

that golden sun beetle      tied so       tightly around your neck?

You say       that you feel naked without it, as

                           it hangs gently

        over your *******.

                         But let me tell you something.

I feel naked without you wrapped around my neck.

                      I am totally and completely exposed without your love

       to shield me from the night.

But your arms are not a ribbon.

                                  I cannot keep you on

a leash.

             Nor do I want to.

Darling, you are           the most valuable thing in the universe            to me.

And because             you mean so much,                     I must let you fly free.

I cannot keep you tied around my neck like the scarab on yours.

I can only hope that you'd willingly hang around.

Stars always became tangled in her hair when she played in the sky.
They twinkled like glitter on her skin when she stood beneath the red, hot sun and glowed in the darkness of his shadow.

I reach out
                               to you -to your essence
grappling to any shred               of your memory.
                             Your smile.
         The light in              your eyes.
The tinkling of bells in
                                                                                    your laugh.
The soft rose that                     warmed all of
the        freckles on your cheeks
           when you                         blushed.
Every feature.
                                                  Faded.
Like an old picture.

Reaching and clawing through
every scene,                       every second.
                                        Every memory of you.
Time stands still              and the world is silent.
The stars hang, frozen        in their dark sky.
                                                       The universe is, and suddenly

it isn't.
My mind
                                      blinks.
My heart beats on           like a drum and
the wind                           rushes from my lungs at
                             lightspeed as
a sickening
possibility comes to mind.

                                                                                      You are nothing more than s t a r d u s t .

You look in the mirror and see nothing but remorse, I look at you
and see bones and stardust.

Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin.
You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep.
That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me.
Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.

Imagine, I am sitting
at the piano.
Imagine, you come to sit
beside me-to join me.
And while I am playing,  out of the corner
of my eye, I see the twinkle
in yours. The longing in your eyes,
because I caress the keys of the piano
so softly, and you hope, that
I might, one day, do the same
to
you.
But I am no more than a simple musician.
So imagine this, I can play the piano,
but    I could
          make you
                    sing.

He sat at the edge of the Earth, and night after night, the moon told
secrets to his mocking blue eyes, secrets that no one else could ever, ever begin to understand.

The moon poured over the
       moors
                     and the night-birds
howled                through the wind.
The stars shuddered in their
midnight sky                  and whispered his
name amongst themselves.

He could do nothing but swallow
his tears in her memory.

He stared down
                into the dark, twisting waves, as if
a voice spoke to him from
                                                         the watery depths
                             below.

                                            It seemed to pull him in and
                                                                                              pool in him.
It swam circles
          in his curiosity.

The Sun stabbed at the waves, washing rainbows     over
glimmering abalone.
                Translucent bubbles danced
in its light.
Fishbones lay quietly on the ocean floor, forgotten.
                                                                                   Starfish whispered to him, tales
of how they had lost their arms to the
                      creatures that walk in the sun.

                                                        Urchins complained about the oil pooling in their waters.
Sharks gave him the silent treatment.
And despite the fact that he too had legs and walked in the sunlight,

                               he knew he was not made for the sun,
                      but for the sea.
                                                            And the waves whispered his name with
salt and foam.

Tell me, what is it like,
to crooked-roll the dice, to
always get snake-eyes, to keep
slipping on  ice?

Tell me why he talks, tell
me why he walks, the
way he does, like he's barefoot
on the coals.
He's barefoot on the rocks.

All those dice sit in your cup.
"C'mon girl, just fill 'er up."

And tell me why he laughs
at all those broken hands,
          and broken hearts,
      and palms of sand,
and crooked dice,
that fell, through
cracks, and on the lines,
out of their hands, into your eyes.

You said, "Sometimes, I see better,
when the sand up here is wetter. That girl
tried to take the gritty pain away —I didn't let her."

"The sand I put there, in her eyes," he said, "reminded her
of all her lies, and I never did forget her."

I want to become part of you the way the wind becomes oxygen
in your lungs, and the way you cannot breathe when you are without me.

Loving you is all I want.
Laying on your       chest
with a shaky softness.
The way your electricity collides         with my skin.
Your hands,     gently    exploring.

Your breath comes across my back.
Lovely are     your words,
finding their way to                 my
              lips.
Your body pressing against
mine.
Curving your shoulder,   slightly.

Your fingertips brushing            around my waist, like
waves       washing      over     me.
The feeling of your teeth      soft against       my neck
Tonight we're a sea,          your rocky rhythm       taking
       me down,
deeper.

Arching my back to        meet your moves.
My     bare      skin singing for       your warmth.
And you savor my     thighs.
Gentle are intentions.
You               trace your tongue       along my hips,
               planting flowers with your
lips.

Gripping      cold silk,
your     breath comes
hot against          my neck.
My mind pulses with
the thrilling thought of you
      rolling   over in
sheets of
             infinity.
Skipping        a beat,
your
         heart
gives in.

Leaving       fingerprints       on our      skin
                 like              beestings, and
I have never known a love
as sweet
as this.

Was it longing in is sad, blue eyes, or was it lust?
Maybe it was a beautiful combination of the two.
She always left him wanting more.
So he gave up the sunlight for her.
He promised to spend the rest of his days  in darkness, between silk sheets and, hushed tones.
He never asked anything of her.
Seeing her body covered in nothing but moonlight was more than
his soul could ever dream of.

"How did you know where to find me?" She whispered, her voice
cracking under her tears.

"I followed the maps you left in my heart, and I let my feet carry me to you, because I belong to you the way the stars belong in the sky." He said, holding her.

She nodded and more tears rolled off her chin.

"My darling, our stars, the very stars inside of us, go together like the sun and the moon. And I want nothing more than to be by your side, always."

In this moment, she knew she could never again wander away from his embrace.

Vibrant streaks of green and blue and violet twist in your eyes, like a
beautiful galaxy and I want nothing more than to catch each shooting star and leave my wishes on your lips.

The way a child trusts so blindly, I will close my eyes and fall into your every word.
The sugary-sweet  scratch of every consonant and the friction of each vowel.
I will trust you with no hesitation.
If I fall, I know  that you will catch me.

The way a child clings to it's favorite blanket or stuffed toy,
I will hold onto you and never let go of the feeling you put in my heart.

The way a child finds no sorrow in it's days, I will too, look at the world in a sunlight so bright, there is no room for darkness.
When I am with you, I can know no sadness.

The way a child sleeps with a guardian teddy bear at it's side, to fight off every night terror, I will rest easy knowing you are beside me.
Your body pressed against mine, like perfect puzzle pieces.

The way a child day-dreams of anatomically incorrect hearts, and
cheek-kisses, I will dream of you and all of the butterflies you give me.

And the way a child believes from the bottom of their heart, that everything will be okay, I will give you my heart, and believe that you will not break it.

His love was a lightning bolt that split her bones and left her stalked
out on the grass.

She made his heart beat like thunder and his soul sing with the wind.

You always tell me of the
e l e c t r i c i t y
coiled in your bones, and
how I put it there.
But my dear, you are one to talk,
for you've got me
burning like the wire in
lightbulbs.

Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.
On your pillow.
In your arms.
Imagine, you press your thumb to
my lower lip, and you can hear my heart
beating like a hammer.
You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and
you teach me a new language with your mouth.
You touch me with intention.
Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.
Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches
you so softly, I could scream.
And the exquisite truth of it all is,
that if you ever did get to touch me,
I think I would die.

You always talked about falling in love, but what if I am afraid to fall?

What if I am afraid of heights?