My precious heart,
You make me smile
So burned and bruised,
Still laughing all the while

The stardust that makes you,
Is one of a kind,
Rare just like you,
Impossible to find

How lucky am I,
To breathe the same air,
To witness a glimpse of your magnificence,
To know, you're there

A clean slate,
A fresh start,
A happy life,
Wishes for you, straight from my heart

I have known euphoria
- it's the sound of your laughter
- With or without me,
To see your happily ever after

It is often in the most mundane moments that I am caught by sense of perspective altering awareness.  Awareness of the ache in my toes from straining to see through the window of what might one day be.  Awareness of the truly humbling way that life can take everything away, leave you sweating against the rock floor, only to show you the beauty in having enough strength to pull yourself back into the light. Awareness of the gratitude that pulses in my veins for the people I have landed amongst.  It is here, in these moments, with pressure reminiscent of hope, disbelief, and wary elation expanding against my rib cage, declarations of affection catching in my throat, that the floors drop.  Endless free fall is the only capacity within which I understand what it means to adore another.  With feet firmly on the ground, I'm guaranteed to lose my way.

and we all just want to be
the subject of someone else's  poetry
someone else's endless fascination
to be compared to the ocean,
so mysterious and beautiful
because
for some reason
it would be enough
if you
were the person
that they think about
at four a.m. when
sleep escapes them
the reason that they sing
in the shower
we all are hungry
for weighty words
that fulfill our craving
to be loved
we want to be
stripped naked by
the rawness
of their metaphors
we  fall in love
not with others
but
with the way
we want others
to fall in love
with
us.

Sometimes silence is the answer,
when words do not suffice.
One look your way,
with intention to entice.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro’ the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark’d with the courses of clear winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild Ev’ning sweeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides,
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flowrets she stems thy clear wave.

  Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

It's weird
How comfortable i am with you
Maybe it's coz you are honest

I didn't realise
Just how much i liked you
Till the reality
Of never seeing you again hit me

The pain that stung my heart.
The tears I tried to fight
The memories i tried to hide

Just everything about you
Reminded me
What i'd like
Who i'd like to be with.

You were sent to me
To show me whats real
What's an obsession
How I appreciate it
I was loosing myself
In the obsession

Not anymore though