Like the anger
Of fire
Shapes the metal
Like the sorrow
Of a writer
Creates poetry
Everything
That is
Beautiful
Doesn’t always
Start
Beautifully.

there’s chaos
in everybody’s heart.
some just grow
flowers on it.
while others
tear it apart.

She had blue skin
and so did he.

She wore a mask
and so did he.

She spent her life searching
and so did he.

but when they met

they saw nothing

but the mask they hid behind

and so she passed him by.

The hardest part,
of your dying.
was being able to survive.
Being the one to
let you die.
even if it meant
you wouldn't suffer.
letting you go....
I still haven't
and I don't know if I
actually survived.

would the moon call the Earth an abuser?
constantly trying to escape,
always being absent-mindedly
yanked back
like a big child with a balloon.
with hands that show hate
deep in its lines and cracks
from years without love.

would the Earth call the moon a molester?
slowly ******* at her heels,
asking for visits
for attention,
for life,
to soothe dry bones.
constantly breathing stale vacuum-air down her neck.

millions of stars
shine sparkle twinkle glimmer gleam
like asinine onlookers and
perverted peeping toms
waiting for the sun to rise