I live in a house with a girl called Lyssa.
She screams a lot,
cries too.

I tell her to smile, to laugh.
I tell her that good things can happen.
I tell her that I wish she would feel better.

This only makes her cry more.
And scream a little louder.

Our house is small, and only one of us can be in it at a time.
I live there mostly when it’s sunny
and I plant flowers.

I live there until a rain cloud arrives, and Lyssa comes to take my place.
Sometimes even, I have to leave sooner.
She has tendencies of showing up unexpectedly.
And killing the flowers I planted.

I’ve told her to leave,
that I can’t live with her anymore because her rain falls too often.

But she always comes back,
and I’m just afraid one day,
she won’t leave.

Insanity is scribbled handwriting in a tattered journal
words awkwardly strung together
like pieces of a puzzle that do not fit together
yet still forced together
arranged by someone who finally got tired of
trying to put it together correctly.

Or maybe that’s just life.

when the only thing
illuminating the world
are the stars who live
life times away
and the moon
who gracefully rules
everything beneath her
and the weight on my chest
begins to increase so subtly
until I am being fully crushed underneath it
laying there as the whisps of forgotten dreams
are pushed out of me
and my heart struggles to continue beating
the simple thought of your crystal eyes
returns some feeling into the tips
of my fingers that tingle as humanity
begins to flow within them again
you feel like breathing in a world
that thrives on asphyxiating dreamers

the moon herself could not
find the words to describe you my love

being a self acclaimed poet
I want nothing more than to rewrite you
into beautiful metaphors and verses
until I've used every single word
there is available to use

I want to be able to say that your eyes
felt like the ocean and looked like home
But your eyes are so much more than that my dear

I want to say that your laugh
Is more precious than the diamonds
In my mothers jewelry box
That I dreamed of as a little girl
But your laugh makes the silly rocks
Seem like litter on the street in comparison
To you

I want to be able to say that your arms
Are my shelter in the blizzard of fleeting sanity
That has become my home
But really,
I no longer live in that cold place much at all anymore
Because your arms feel like breathing
And safety

I want to be able to put you in words
But I can't do that because the words would never
No matter how hard they tried
Shine as bright as you