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 Nov 2015 Miguel Soliman
Sjr1000
Still learning to reach for the gifts
star like in the skies
Taking them into my heart

One at a time

One for your love
The children too

One for the mind
One for the feelings
Through and through

One for the light evolving
One for the light of healing

One at a time

One for the heat of living

Still learning to reach for the gifts
Star like in the skies.
 Nov 2015 Miguel Soliman
S
Emotion
 Nov 2015 Miguel Soliman
S
There is a child
Her name is Love
She has long blonde hair and rosy cheeks
But behind that fair facade,
She has a vicious streak

She likes to play with Confusion,
Jumping ropes in the park.

Confusion has curly brown hair
And means well
She loves the other children,
although she often causes them harm

Confusion is akin to Serenity,
But Confusion came first

Serenity has big blue eyes
And a shiny bald head.

She follows around Anger,
Whose clothes are always ripped,
And his hood is always up.

But he has a crush on Sadness,
Whose short black hair is tucked under a cap,
Holding all her problems inside.

And contrary to popular belief,
Happiness is the most lonesome,
Her beauty hidden beneath her favorite hoodie,
Watching as the others play.
Oh god, this is typical me.
To fall in love in the time it takes a red light to turn green. I’m stuck trying to preoccupy my hyperactive mind by betting on which raindrop on the car window wins the race. Then I remember that time we got stuck out in the rain, and the way the water clung to your eyelashes. How your shirt stuck to your chest and refused to let go. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of an inanimate object, but love isn’t always objective.

This isn’t love, it never is with me, this is madness in its purest form. Mutually assured destruction in every way, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I’m falling in love with the simple things. The crooked ***** of your nose, the flecks of gold in your whiskey brown eyes. The scar on your forearm, that tells a story I will one day ask for.
It’s just like me, I suppose. I can never leave anything alone.
— We’d Make The Perfect Metaphor | Kayle Marie
 Nov 2015 Miguel Soliman
chris
"I want to love you, but I don't know how. I want to love you. Pitch black, pale blue, these wild oceans shake what's left me loose, just to hear me scream for mercy."
-sleeping at last
Burnt Thursday dinners,
rushed Monday morning breakfasts;
I want these with you.

— The End —