Finding beauty in everything is harder than it looks-
Until you come across a something, or someone so absolutely stunning that
Your eyes are completely readjusted.
Rose colored lenses replace your contacts and now finding beauty comes
As easy as using your green thumb to plant life into every inanimate object.
But like all wishes made, you have to be careful with wording, or something
Awful could happen- or simply realizing all good things must come to an end,
Magic does not last forever. The rabbit in the hat eventually gets sick of coming
Out for pure entertainment, and there seems to be blood pouring from the
Rectangular box the magician cut in half.
Maybe it was the angle at which I was watching,
Or maybe we are comfortable with the idea of having to see to believe-
Faith never worked out for me, generally speaking it is a great concept,
But not something I could firmly grasp.
I could believe in the magic of it all
It was so easily displayed, illusions tossed around
Science, vaguely fabricating facts- using monstrous vocabulary to
Make us believe what we were reading
Maybe that's all love is.

wishing to crawl into bed beside you and drown out the worries of the world, that have so carelessly been kept inside of me, with the sound of your heartbeat-
hand to chest i wish to record each beat by inscribing it, like a ECG test- creating something out of the beautiful music your heart plays out.
I wish nothing more than to pull back the surface and discover a world of new, a world of you- like a clock I would observe each gear and learn what makes it twist, spin, and tick.
engraving into you my initials so that girls to come would know who rightfully discovered a different side of yourself.
I would read to you fine words and use your body as a canvas, or even a roadmap, spreading paint and creating strokes that could sell in auction.
I could admire you for ages, I say
and without hesitation or a need for affirmation, you wince and explain, “you have created apart of me not many would understand, but many could admire. Your art is not a sight for your eyes only.”
and just like that, you’re sold.
your body a guide and eyesight for the people of the world to ponder and examine- Picking apart your flaws as i never did. But, I cannot deny their habitual need to window shop.

I woke up promptly at 6am with stagnant thoughts restlessly awaiting to be stirred in my mind. I played into the game of love by making something out of the scattered words- like letter magnets on a fridge. Have you ever tasted something for the first time and thought, "wow, I have been missing out. This is amazing"? That is how I feel, and how I felt, every time I see you. You breathe into me new life without even trying. which is truly remarkable. You give new meanings to things that have a fixed identification. I would put money on you coming up with alternative names for the color crayons already out there- that is the impression you leave. The impression that nothing is as it seems and if we wanted to we could make this world ours. Take a different path, lead people, bring peace, create. You give me the mind power to think myself on top of that mountain, and you could most certainly provide the stamina. Whether I am looking at you from the front, side, or back I have noticed a unique profile that I wish I could capture in words. You bring so much to the table that before I can even put my pen to paper I have already personified your greatest virtues and vices by creating dreams in which you paint fragments of who you really are. Now, I have often heard the testament, "He feels like home"; but never once was privileged to feel that away about anyone until now. You not only feel like home, but you bring me home. You allow for my bones to feel sturdy and well put together underneath my skin. And without changing a thing you create for me a place to escape to that feels like home, but less invasive.
The peace of mind I get from nature, is the same peace of mind I get knowing you are alive and breathing. Blessing people with your presence every single day. In simplest terms- you are my one way ticket out of a town that has led me straight into the ground. Upon meeting you I gained a sense of knowledge on how the world is so bright. That being because of you. In final consideration you may not feel a drop of the same rain.
In other words, our lines may not add up. I may have picked the longer straw in this scenario, or perhaps tugged enough to attain the bigger half of the wishbone only to make a wish I am not sure would come true. But being put into perspective would only reveal that we are solely what we think we are. Similarly; we are who/what we love, not who loves us and this revelation will allow me to live humbly, and happily. even if by chance you do not feel the same, or never do for that matter. I will be okay to walk this earth alone knowing that I have allowed myself to decompose thoughts of you into chewable matter, and that you are aware of mostly all of them. Knowing you has made me feel incredible things. Knowing you gave me my one way ticket.

It was a long time coming- you and I
The cards had it written out, and planted in the stars
Were the reasons why.
Someone of the same nature, but never did I see just how
Special you came to be-
With constant banter and a shoulder to use at
Your expense, I never thought I could see this as
A           romance
Maybe this dream is too big for the both of us, indeed.
Or maybe love isn't what we writers make it out to be.
All I know is that this world we both live in would seem
A lot smaller, simpler, less time consuming if I could spend
It at your side- however, ideal is not practical and I have made
It more than clear that I see you as a friend, never a companion
Or someone dear.
So, as I bid this oath to rest, let my final words detach as dandelion
Petals do; and make a story of us somewhere new

I have been asked on multiple occasions to describe the pain of reminiscing
here is how I see it
you are at a museum and as you past each display that depicts a point in time, a crucial chunk of what makes our history authentic, you see signs that say "please, do not touch"
and for having an astonishing discernment that you cannot touch those replicas, you do not.
you stray away from this because it could potentially destroy the models.
Imagine if you touched those displays and you changed history
you changed the story of Lewis and Clark
you changed the story of the wright brothers
and you changed the current build of yourself
Everything up to this point in time would be significantly different.
like the great poet E.E. Cummings once said, we wouldn't be we if things played out differently.
to touch and grasp the past leaves you with a bitter aftertaste that lingers and eats away at present day you-
stroll, look around, ponder the idea of what could have been but never touch, or stay for too long
History will be there, collecting dust
It never changes;
but you sure do have the ability to change your current situation and the future that is patiently awaiting you.

Growing up I was told if you give a situation more thought and worry than it deserves that the doubt is always the answer; because your heart nor your gut would have assembled that doubt otherwise.
from this realization a crucial lesson was thrown into my lap,
if you think twice about loving, the love for you to give was never necessarily there to begin with.
There was a time when I loved and lost-
He was my one solid thought, he intruded my stream of consciousness and left it free of doubt
He, this perfect undeniably warmhearted soul warms the 19 winters that are so compacted within me.
whether he knows it or not.
Until the sky is cast over and the sun rays pass through the atmosphere with ease my love for him will be sealed, awaiting for his curiosity to be restored.
There was a time when I loved and lost, but realized that love had just lost her way.

My fragile heart has been held in far too many hands that restrain it from pumping. It has been bruised and broken, misused and taken for granted by men who believe they are superior to love. However, as much as I would like to believe all good things come to end, I cannot. For I have touched far too many souls, and kissed too many lips to believe that only one soul entwines with ours; that all men speak love but only adore the body in a dimly lit room. I have faith that one day a man will disclose his love without fear of his masculinity being tarnished. I will live to see chivalry's last breath and thank it for not conforming to the norms of society. I will love until it is ingrained into others that love is not a game ready to be won.
But rather, love is a lifestyle that needs to be nurtured.
-new

Voices often enter his ear as the sound of music, voices turn into consistent tones and fluctuation bounces off of the eardrum as a beat.
He tells me my voice is a sweet Lullaby, soothing the souls of the deaf.
He plays me as well as his instruments, he takes his time to familiarize himself with my indentations and creases,
He picks up on what notes seep from my pours, making adjustments as he goes.
He is gentle and careful with his words, knowing that an off beat would turn me astray.
His love is written as sheet music that is hard to make out.  
But, In hopes that you may learn the rhythm of his soul, You press your ear to his chest, listening and imitating the thumping of his heartbeat; going at your own pace, you perfect each cord and tune whenever you find yourself stuck-
your intentions were always pure, and he commended you for following along for so lone, yet the duration of this music lesson was mistaken for absentminded love.
and like any great song, it ended, and he was gone.

God was ignited within me when my lungs felt their first breath, when my body was recolored due to the oxygen that permeated me
nineteen years later I see him as an Artist, my artist-
The willingness to create and make with outside forces critiquing and verbally destroying every formation signed by his name.
His work is clear when the earth is painted from a distance, the landscape adorning the horizon.
An individual as a canvas- With his paintbrush that is God he strokes and embellishes on a person until they are to his likeness- with elaborate detail we become our own and to others we are seen as a price, or more so an accomplishment generated by a being who sees beauty in everything.
He, our creator, is a mosaic and we are the pieces gathered together, brought by the winds that act as his angels; to fit together perfectly, or not so perfectly, creating a world of color, and diversity.
He is not only an artist of fine paintings and drawings, but of sculptures and modern looks.
He creates to give each canvas a sense of self, individuality.
He creates so that others are moved by his work, so that they too see him in every sketch, abstract figure, printed graphic, and illustration. He is the outline of every innovated design.
He is what I see and what I feel; He is the beginning and end to everything beautiful.

As the cold blows over and strips the trees of their leaves,
I am liberated from who I was in the fall.
I am as ever changing as the seasons and those who do not comfort me in this time of change and cold weather, are to go as quickly as they came.
I am clean, and have rid myself of wrong doings and toxic persons.
    This life is made for reinventing, creating, and finding one's self through people and small happenings.
But you will run into people who question your growth, and ridicule you for "changing".
Be mindful of these people, for these are the ones who are molded to one form, one place, one being. They are stuck, and they will drag you down with their aching soul to keep you from reaching full potential.

After so many nights of tears on my sheets, friends building me up, and late night phone calls to my mother asking her why love has to hurt so bad; you came back.
You came back to let me know I was always a second option, that things are not going well and you miss the way I treated you.
I gave you so much love that when it came time to be on my knees, begging you to stay, I had enough.
I never believed someone who claimed to love me so much, would just up and go. I forgave you
After 7 months you still run through my veins like the first day we met, having you back would be an ultimate blessing, maybe even a curse in disguise.
You had my heart in the palm of your hand. Better yet, our hearts were intertwined and since then I have grown stitches.
So come back to get the love I have always wanted to give you, or leave before I fall flat on my face; I am embarrassed enough to know that I was never at the top of your list. I was sure you would come back without a second thought, but I have quickly learned that people are not driven by fate, or greater powers.
They have a choice, You had a choice.
and I was not it