as the sun lays to rest in the blankets of the Indianan lake,

as small raindrops (or tears?) fall from above to grace the “different kind of heat,”

as a slow song no one knows, plays itself through the buzzy speakers, with fireworks in the distance,

as everyone holds onto their love,

I can’t help but not caring what they say about me loving you.
I can’t help but want to be the one swaying and laughing in your arms.
And I don’t really mind.

When I touched your hand and face
just once to say goodbye
I was startled at the stone cold
that greeted me in lieu of your warm embrace.

I stared through water that found itself in my eyes
to look at all of the flowers
the ones you wouldn't have wanted
because eventually, they too will die.

I listened to the two songs
the only ones you cared were there
sang with beauty and love and grace
although they were not long.

When everything is past tense, except the memories that we share
I'm left wondering, praying, grieving and wishing
for just a little more.

petals are fragile
but they're stronger than me.
petals have no hearing
i envy them for that,
maybe if i couldn't hear,
i wouldn't bruise so easily.
*just like a petal

photographs
taken
every second
as if trying to
beckon
me nearer
but the photos aren't developed
all the way
just the spots where the tears have landed
I'm sitting here crying my memories away

Petals
or*
*parts?
Petals on the flowers I pick,
or parts of my heart that I give you?
Does it matter?
No.
You probably let both wither away
just like the times before.

Beware the blinding flash, just before the shutter.


Watch how you pose, unlike any other.

the aroma of white citrus from a shower like summer rain. white sheets, a beautiful contrast to a tan body that nobody loves. the hushed breathing of people dreaming, things that I will never be honored to learn. pillows that may as well be clouds as I sink into them. the coolness of this bed, lonely but perfect as a morning with cool dew. all of this is perfectly amazing, but I’d rather share it with you.

The color of tickles, tickle me pink!
the color of my cheeks when you say things that make me think

The color of cotton candy, almost as sweet as you
pink like the bubblegum bubble that I blew

bubblegum pink with a pop
I can't tell where heaven begins,
where you stop.

playing in clouds of velvet
carelessly wandering
laying in streams that belong to jets.

that earthly green that brings me down for a while.
those beautiful eyes
they go well with that perfect smile.

Fries
Need to be cooked longer
For nice crisp
Golden deliciousness

do you know that I love you so much
that
I sit upright in bed,
chilled, and with a cold,
******* on a nasty cough drop to keep my sickness quiet,
just so you can finally get some rest?

do you know that I love you so much
that
I'm fully prepared to stay awake,
all night,
incase you need me,
because maybe your sickness has returned,
or something mean and scary has disturbed your sleep?

do you know that I love you so much
that
I didn't take a shower, because I didn't want to leave you alone,
and that I worried so much that
I allowed raindrops from my eyes to fall onto my glasses,
even though I hate getting them wet?

do you know that I love you so much
that
I sit here,
waiting,
praying to our God
that my baby boy will be well once more,
that your color will return,
your head will calm,
and that your lunch will want to stay with you?

do you know
that
I love you
this incredibly much?

It's a love that's greater than love
Here at the kingdom by the sea
that's where me and my Annabel Lee
shared a Dream Within A Dream.
I remember I kissed her upon the brow
Then I said, "In parting with you now,"
Since then I've been Alone
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
At least I still had The Raven
May he cry never more.
Only this and nothing more.

He molded me in his hands, rough and scary
Just the way he wanted me to be

He sat for hours at the pottery wheel
What he didn't see was the real me and how I truely feel

He doesn't care about my perfect imperfections
If I'm not the way he wants me, he sees me as infectious

He molds and molds while I blankly stare
I should leave and my feelings I would spare

*the sensation makes me not care

In the Undivided Poetry
these Simple Writings
Are Undefined Sightings

all of this is messy.
be truthful,
there's something that you thought of.
I'm thinking of our ridiculous
standards.
why can't we judge people for their hearts
instead of the scars?
why can't we see the soul
instead of their body?
why can't we see the mind and thoughts
instead of the face?
they all judge the hurt,
instead of the pretties.

The color of amethyst, but we won't talk about that
the color of a flower and smell: lilac

The color of the sweetest plum
and the color of bruises before "enough, I'm done"

It's quiet
too quiet
she can hear the breathing;
the life;
the sadness;
and the grieving;
what she doesn't hear is that
her own heart isn't beating.

we're staring at
the pretty silence

like teardrops from the sky
or maybe the ones that flow from my left eye.
The development of photographs that don't exist
I don't think I can stand much more of this.*

*rain like teardrops from above
what caused this rain is most likely love.
A love for a child that couldn't be kept
a love so strong; you won't believe how I've wept

the color of the heart
and the flames that have engulfed me entirely
(in an inferno of love)

the color of the thickness
the blood, that used to flow out
(but it doesn't anymore and you are the reason!)

the color of passion and roses in full bloom
this color is red and it makes me think of you
(that's why it's one of my favorites)