Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind Scattered like ashes I don’t know if I’ll ever find it Someone stole my color From the face I know so well I saw it in the cotton candy clouds And the teal ocean swell Someone stole my color I guess that’s where it went The world looks so much brighter Like something heaven-sent Someone stole my color And that’s what no one knows Depression isn’t black It’s the color of a rose It’s the light orange in a sunset And the yellow of a peach Light blue, my favorite color So simply out of reach Purple like my favorite eyeshadow No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say And my favorite music artist Although he has passed away Someone stole my color Now everything’s too bright I suppose sometimes darkness Isn’t the opposite of light Someone stole my color So I’ll wear grey and black As if in mourning Until I get it back
i have a face cut from ice
a heart pierced in a thousand places so to remember always the same voice the same gestures and my laughter heavy as a wall between you and me the ones who are most alive seem the most still behind the milky way a shadow dances our gaze climbs toward the stars
the faint smell of rain
and the remnants in my coffee cup from hours of early morning wake me from my sleep and as i lay in the space between dreaming and consciousness i breathe in the scent again in hopes that it would take me back to a similar time in the past when i was closer to home.
I talk to the moon about
the lovely things you say Yes, I talk to her almost everyday Her light shines through my eyes Into my heart and reveal An ocean of love and dreams Of fears and tears from my cries Alone, I talk to the moon as if I’m talking to you I tell the stars to guide me I ask the clouds to fly me up And let my love soar and be carried By a gentle breeze Because the moon and I, We get along We whisper about your loveliness And sing a merry song And the moon and I, Are just like you and I, I admire you But you will never know that I do.
perhaps we start to realize
that we cannot keep floating. our feet were always stuck to the earth, where we belong but we do not notice until gravity defeats us, when even our shoulders and backs are pulled to the ground.
here talking with you
hoping our distance is our own special place while I am one of a thousand that you talk to in one instant, while i wait for your "instant" for a thousand hours.
a poem that I wrote about an old crush.
— The End —