I want to hold you in my arms but I can't.
though I can feel the ache in my teres' as I hold them out,
hoping you'll change your mind and bury yourself in them.
hoping you'll find comfort with your face in my neck again,
kissing me relentlessly and telling me you love me,
telling me you love me from your soul to mine.
but we laugh and cover it up,
cover up the fears that we may be more than what we would prefer,
that there's more beneath our hearts,
more that wants to reach out and touch the cold, graveyards in us.
each headstone an emotion we left behind with the memories in the caskets below.
we want to take shovels and cover them in 6 feet of dirt.
we want to tear our nails trying to open each casket and say the headstones' names to each of them.
and we want to caress and heal each individual wound and scar the other carries,
we want to kiss them and watch them fold into new skin.
we want the power to protect each sunrise and sunset the other may behold some day.
we want to reach into the ocean of the others presence and pull up all the treasures below.
we want to show the other the beauty of their depths,
the trenches with new discoveries of the corals we may hold deep down
and the tropical beaches where our shells shine.
we want to uncover each other from each other.

but truly,
I just want your arms with mine, in that romantic way you said we had to give up.
I want the heart you have.
I wish I was good enough for that heart,
I wonder what I'm missing.
I will always wonder if I'm good enough.
why you can't make that decision?
I know it's from her,
but why can't I surpass that?
what do I lack?
which shell isn't bright enough?
which scar is too ugly?
which wound hurts too much?
which casket is too *****?
which headstone is too large?
is my graveyard too vast?
which cavern is too deep?
which trench is drowning you?
which sunrise isn't beautiful enough?
which sunset is too dark?
which star isn't in your constellation?
is my sun too hot?
is the moon too low?
which galaxy is too far?

what could I have done?
can I?
am I good enough to fix anything for you?

the desire to unwrap your ego, imagination, and ingenuity
drives me to heights I have not seen.
as I can't look at the ground when I search for you, but always looking up high above me.
you are a flower on a hill.
a tall sunflower, always reaching to the sun and its stars.
sunflowers don't look down away from its sun,
for looking down destroys their shine.
it is why you do not see me, looking up at you while you look to the sky

"Unfortunately, honey, the sunflowers still face the sun
and the rivers run toward the oceans.
Our neighbors do grow old,
and the clouds still make rain.
City lights pollute our sky's natural beauty
while we pollute our hearts in the same darkness.
So, you know, we stay pessimistic in a world that is quickly dying,
and we don't recognize things until they've disappeared.
We don't love enough for what little life we're given,
and we leave a scar once we're gone.

So, we must remember that the optimistic sun is made for the flowers,
and the rivers and ocean are but the same water.
Our neighbors see us grow too,
and the same clouds make rain for those sunflowers
just as we are made for each other.
To see each other and touch their hearts, too.
The hearts that fill up the dark.
The city will light our way home,
and the sky has stars in the dark.

It can go two ways, you see.
Do not forget the other side,
what we cannot see,
what we forget.
We are victims of this,
but the world is your oyster.
And your mind it is what you make it."

will my day change if the moon is out at 11:37 in the morning
and the sun at 1:02 at night?

will my feelings change with the wind or the waves?

I reek of abhorrence
and I taste like the comets in hell I've sent for you.

my skin is like sandpaper
as you scratch it to climb up from the ladder at the bottom.

I see your face filled with terror
and I hear the flames lick your feet as you slip
farther
and farther down.

anger is felt in the stomach
the core of our bodies.

it eats your heart
and feeds your body fire.

our rose colored world becomes red hot
and we see flames atop our enemies heads.

our words bite off heads
and cut through spears,
we seethe with danger.

we feel ultimate control
and power.
power to tear down the others.
power to eat them alive.
power to destroy the sun,
and become it with our burning heart
that turned to ash when we forgot our human innocence,
that we gave up to let out anger drive us.

however
forget not that the control and power
is an illusion.
a lie to keep yourself in check
when you're the most insecure person in the room.
let your anger humble you.

anger is felt in the core,
but is driven by the soul
and stems from betrayal.

what's it like to have a gun to your head?
the feeling of the cold barrel pushed up against your hair,
knowing that inside that barrel is a future that rides the line you didn't always think you'd walk.
the wideness of that barrel, you can feel it's exact measurements on your skull.
the gaping hole in the center of the tube, that weightless piece against you,
but only physically weightless.
the heaviness of the weapon becomes
as heavy as your heart.

is it the part of the power in the trigger against your hand?
or is it the knowledge of the chemistry inside that gun,
that's pushing against your hand,
like your palm and finger with that gun have a newfound power?
is it a horrifying power?
is it peaceful?
is it aggressive?
loud?
is it as quick as your instincts?
the flip of the coin,
as quick as your mind changes?
is it as exhilarating as you wanted?
or as deadly as you thought?
is the weight of the bullets as much as the potential you have,
that you so easily dispose of?
so easily reject?

which is it, Isa?