I could write grandeur about Tansy
Orange, Orange like the curtains of my youth
the back yard where my lips sealed onto the Ice Lolly
that capricious Winter.
Until Stones can provide cover
we are urgently bolted to this floor.

Supposedly beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Which is super gay
So when I say you are beautiful
This is what I mean

You are beautiful in the same way
That the word, “believe” in sign language
Can translate to being married to your own thoughts

When a person sees something beautiful
Their pupils can increase up to 45 percent in size
I’m not high today I swear
Just that
You surprise me every time

Your left lung is smaller than your right
So it can make room for your heart
That’s just biology

And when they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
When people blush
Their stomach lining turns red too

Laughing lowers stress
A 7 year old can laugh almost six hundred times in one day
An adult
13 to 100
I want to make you laugh like we are 7 again

I was 7 once
I’ve had seventeen years practice since then

When you put a shell to your ear
What you are really hearing is the sound of your own blood
Rushing through your ears
There is a ******* ocean inside of you
That swells like lungs
And rushes a steady current of mostly
Unattractive creatures
You are like the bottom of the sea
All single celled and fight for life
In darkness

And maybe that doesn’t seem too beautiful
But you don’t really know what’s down there
Do you?

You are beautiful like old people
Who think you are sweet
Because you’ve had enough patience
To match their pace
“I don’t know when I got old” she said
“But I wasn’t ready. It took me ten years to figure this place out.
“I’m 94. I don’t have another ten.”
And she kissed me

Beautiful like poetry
When poetry hurts the most
When it gives you goose-bumps

And I bet if I stuck my arm inside a music box
To let my chilled skin pluck the metal keys inside
There wouldn’t be music
I am too soft
And it would hurt
But it looks like if I were hard enough
There might be
It would sound like chaos
The keys are beautiful
But the sound inconsistent

Beautiful
Like the collaboration of molecules
That understood pointillism enough to make me
But still experimental
So they gave me cancer
And I’m shorter than I want to be
And I am pretty sure they are laughing
About what they did to my brain
But my lungs are perfectly uneven
So my heart can pump oceans
So I can move and be stupid
And do things like tell you

You are ******* beautiful

Augur well, on a left ward spirral.
I never meant to ignore
the residential Wren or lazy Cat,
who always knew better
than my list of dreams.
In the alleyway with dahlias,
I wanted to think as my own,
a perchance a symbol!
now there's sacks of pebble stone and sand,
no rub of green
builders mucking in for someone's joy to settle,
side gate entrance
into a little abode no longer possibly mine.

Gifted
Gifted means nothing to people who do not know
I don’t even know the proper definition
Strange that I do not know a part of myself?
I think not.
C’est la vie – such is life
But why must only a few be burdened with this white elephant?
Yes, a white elephant
For although termed a gift, it comes with its own price
On my school’s website, on the gifted page, there is a file
This file, entitled, giftedness; a different kind of normal
Aptly named I think
The upsides? Exactly me.
The downsides? All perfectly describe me as well
My ‘gifted’ friends are just the same
Why is this a gift if it sets us back in our standardized culture?
Sure, I ace the tests, but I can’t start projects until last minute
All because of my perfectionist side
I am a ‘deep thinker’
But I hate deadlines because they limit the
Time I spend on a good, fascinating subject
I’m considered to have the ability to motivate people
But it always comes out bossy
I'm supposed to have high standards and expectations(which I do)
But these fail me when I cannot reach them myself
Causing insecurity
These traits and numerous others all belong to my kind, the 'gifted' kids
I've noticed we're all socially inept, awkward, clumsy
To some degree or another
And I suppose this analytically mindedness comes along with my plethora of troubles
I'm supposed to have many interests, and this is true
But it also prevents me from knowing exactly what I want
I'm supposed to be very focused, detail oriented
But I cannot stand the slightest disturbance
These gifts are deemed part of the 'gifted' personality
Why can't I be normal for a change?
Being gifted really singles you out
Such a small group of us in my school
Almost all are best friends
As no one can understand us better than others just like ourselves
But why can't everyone be gifted?

You didn't see the lacerations
on this wanderer's heart,
he followed you wherever you go,
drank from the enchanted pond
of your beauty, got tipsy
couldn't move from here
as a silver ray of light, tied him for ever.
Like a pixie, you made him loose his bearing,
got drunk with love, your sweet poison,
he lost his way out from here,
he loves the feeling,
getting pixilated by you, to him is heaven,
he just wants you to be his dancing partner.
Life is a wild dance in the forest,
memories of varied kind we planted, ourselves,
grow, flower and spread musky scent,
all we take away are the pollen stuck
to our ecstatic gyrating souls,
and a bit of light we earn on the way
by loving one another deeply with heart.
Pour me one more drop of that-
drink, beauty you carry so light,
let me go for a trip
to the far continent of your soul,
and merge with that landscape.