Where beauty fades
into twisting willows
and coolest zephyrs grow
into gusting billows
In the land where every (and no)
thing is seen
that is where
we find our dreams.

I soliliquize and apologize in the same breath
Not that I didn’t mean what I said
Just that I don’t think you wanted to know that I meant it
In the moments where my façade breaks and my feelings shine through
I’m left with panic that I’ve ruined things with you

If I was a religious man,
I would ask who made the stars.
Took a needle and pin-pricked the dark fabric of the sky

If I was a scientist,
I would ask how the stars stay alive.
Fascinated by gasses and reactions countless miles away

If I was an explorer,
I would pine to see the stars.
Experience the danger and beauty firsthand, like no one else

But I am just a humble man of words
The only question I have in regards to the stars
Is how they wound up in your eyes.

I hoped to turn you into a poem

Sequester your soul into a sonnet
Contain your qualities in couplets
Herd your hopes into haiku

Because poems, I can control
I can preserve; can keep in stasis

I can keep the concept of you that I crave
I don't have to face the reality that I chose wrong
That you never were the person I thought

You are no more a poem than I am
Your meter and rhyme cannot be captured
I am ashamed that I tried to do so