"The problem is; I feel like I'm falling for you"

Don't say it like that
Don't say it like I'm not going to catch you, like I'd leave you to fall flat on your face
Don't say it like I'm not falling right along with you.

Don't think of it as falling
Think of it as floating, flying, spinning through the air on summer breezes and winter chills
Think of it as exploring.

Pretend we're deep-sea diving and searching for foreign treasures in empty caverns
Embrace your inner Ariel and find wonder in the unknown
I'll join you on your quest.

It's scary and it's risky and we might get hurt
It might be worth it
Let's find out.

Pen on paper poised with every feeling to write
Yet no words come, flow onto surface
Yet no sound comes, pen scratching surface
Yet no feeling comes, fill full the heart
No mind of prose nor poetry
No soul of words nor songs

Everything she wore was yellow
but all she felt was gray
gray like the fog that hung over her head and consumed her
in her life it felt red
but in her mind it was a black disarray
black lines that constantly intersected and would never untangle
her head hung white
blank

sunday, december.

the wind blows up my hair
it's making the breeze goes
up to my neck.
if i shall ever close my eyes
the snowflakes will try
too hard to keep it closed
forever

darling, january will start soon
are you hiding? do you care at all?
are you creeping behind the wooden
door and watch as the world burns
down?
because i do. i care about
the year that passes.
the seconds, the minutes,
the hours we spent together
just 24 hours ago
what happened?

i cried
you lied
we fought
i did this, right?
the cats are chasing for fresh meat.

i screamed like a possessed child
like a drunk man without a wife
like the sun without its light
but that was a year ago


monday, january

i used to see you every morning
on this day, you would walk around
the hallways and made fun of
our science teacher.

you would see me and
rolled your eyes
or maybe
just stared for billions of minutes
until you had to look away
because, well, my eyes
had taken over your heart
more than
her words did.

but that was last year.

i cringe every time i hear your
dark and beautiful and flawless
name

and i hide every time i smell your
cigarettes and wine perfume
or ketchup and cigarettes and beer
perfume.

this year

you wont call me yours
i wont call you mine
we wont be staring again
we wont be visible again
we wont dare to hate
we wont be in love
we wont care for each other
we will be nothing.

this year, starting.
i see your face in the crowd and ask,
"do i know him? does he still know me?"
you glance.

There are constellations between your teeth and you have starlight wrapped around your tongue, there is moonlight in your eyes but sunlight in your smile
Every time you breath you inhale glitter and oxygen and powdered sugar, the scent of grass and strawberries and hope
Flowers bloom between your ribs and wind through the joints in your hips, your knees, your wrists
There is a whole menagerie in your stomach, butterflies and pelicans and Bengal tigers
Your skin is crushed velvet, silk and lace, encasing a skeleton of steel and iron, silver filigree
Your hands are soft as cotton, rose petals, strong as the will of all your ancestors.
When you die you will melt back into the earth, disintegrate and fall back to where you came from
You will be absorbed back into the atmosphere and the universe will swallow you up.
It will rearrange your atoms and produce something completely you but completely different.
You are one of a kind, you are the entire universe.
You will never be again, but you will never stop being.

Some say
she is lost to writing poems
snippets, little vignettes of beauty
so much nature inspired, obsessed
with green, botany driven desires
forever in skies, blue, or black with stars
meteor showers, falling, melting
like the liquid silver, red sea of mars
crashing waves, her days
tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry
there is no fault, in words
no shame to be made
would be a sorrowful price to pay
she is writing to find
some truths, a sleuth, a seeker
of going within, without doubt
writing to find herself
most days searching out signs of life
to feel what it would be like, to be
in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers
of garden lily bowers
to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal
climbing invisible ladders
in orchards of apple blossom Springs
to sing, sing, sing