i am a black hole
and you
are the stars.

there is a sparkle in your eyes
and it somehow outshines the stars --
the world stops everytime you smile,
there's light in everything you are.
your laugh is like a melody
and there is sunshine where you go.
you are a thunderstorm, so powerful,
but spring starts when you say 'hello'.
and I've never told you how I feel --
it's something we don't talk about,
you don't see your beauty as surreal,
or know that I can't live without.
but maybe some day, years from now,
you'll find out that you were the cause
of every smile, each song I wrote --
and how in love with you I was.

your father got drunk at your graduation
and i wanted to keep holding your hand.
you in your blue robes,
a white star in the sea,
your heart so palpable
like an artist's dreams.
your step-father pretended he cared,
but muttered under his breath during the procession
and i wanted to keep holding your hand.
i wished my fingers would grow like vines around your
palm
so you'd know i'd be there all along.
the ground may feel broken and your successes
made into background noise,
but you're my white owl
who carries all that is unseen
in your forest-touched eyes
and i believe that our hands,
as long as they're stuck together,
will give you the wings
to leave the rubble behind.

i find it quite sad that the only thing stopping me from beng who i wish to be is a certain sequence of numbers.

numbers seem to have more power over people than any god or government-

this world was built-

and will burn-

because of numbers.

bank account statements cause stalemates between myself and my ambitions-

I am chained and restrained by my credit score, cruelly kept from exploring distant shores.

men slay their fellow man without a second thought

for a fat stack of cash and thoughts of what could be bought.

John Lennon imagined a world with nothing to **** or die for
no posessions too

but money is the cruel hand that tears that dream in two.

for as long as the concept of money
is the fire that drives men's hearts to beat

we will never truly see peace,
living at the mercy of the balance sheet.

as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust

but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands

and is with sleep….

love,
    the breaking

of your
        soul
        upon
my lips

kissing you felt like
swallowing fire, like drowning
in thin air, like causing an earthquake
under just my skin

and it was perfect

we talk
and fight,
kiss and make up.
we hold fast to
the hurt
we cause ourselves
and it piles on
like raked leaves
on an autumn
day. the colors
swirl in patterns,
and sometimes
we see golden
yellow, like the hair
that streams down
my back.
sometimes we see orange,
a sunset streaking
through your black curls.
but mostly,
we see red.

if our words had
a color, it would be
red. the garnet
colored phrases cut deep
and make us believe
we are better off
alone.
but sometimes...
your ice eyes
meet mine and
i freeze
and just look
at you.

and it's in these
moments
that i realize
you are all
the colors,
every day and all
the time, and that
if i were alone,
i would be gray

the boy you love is in your bed and
he is shaking

you wonder if it will always be like this,
tremors through his arms and legs, or if this
is only because he is wrapped in sheets that
smell like someone else.  so you offer him a bowl,
partly to calm him down but mostly because
when he takes a drag he cups his hands and
bows his head and it looks to you like he is
praying and his hands are still shaking and you
wonder if he has faith in anything and if not
maybe that thing could be you

so you clime beside him and you inhale as
he exhales and for a moment he is
                                                                                          still

the boy you love is in your bed and
you are shaking