You are hard to put into words.

You leave me speechless at times,
but the again, occasionally,
I have the daring urge to scream so loud at you that spittle flies.

More often than not though,
I just want to scream at myself.

The night sky and the stars and the moon question me.
Irresolution creeps to the basement of my soul,
snapping the homemade defenses in two.
Bile and tears climb my throat as shadow and trepidation crawl into my head.

Hidden secrets fester along with the feeling of emptiness.
That void eats positivity like a tiger eats deer:
stalking resolutely,
followed by a pounce,
and then teeth shredding everything to little bits.

The stars cry out for answers,
while the sky demands too much in order to maintain my sanity,
and the moon just gazes inquisitively,
wondering what darkness brought me to my knees.

Bright colors wash out in the moonlight while indecision clouds my perception.
Misunderstanding loops around all of my decisions;
death to all right-doing.

I miss you so viciously.
I always forget the tragedy of this feeling.

Instinct often overrides common sense,
leading me to craving your lips, your touch, your everything.
But most of all,
I miss your eyes.
Your eyes were the perfect hue of crushed aquamarine and sapphire stones.
Many times those eyes had to observe from the edges my sorrow and despair.
Now, I'm observing those eyes smiling, but I'm no longer the cause.

I made this choice, to leave you,
to leave all of our past behind me.
I crawled out of the ditch that was our relationship,
burying everything six feet under, where I couldn't dig it back up.
Late nights and late night thoughts brought me back to that ditch.
The absence of you has led me back to the days when the smile you have now was because of me.
The absence of you carves out what has been left of my sanity and I terrorize myself with my impeccable recall.

Six days ago, I was on top of the world,
while simultaneously existing beneath a sheet of ice covering a pond.
Without your permission,
I fell back into your aquamarine and sapphire eyes.
I was mesmerized by the remnants of our connection.

But the time has passed for any confessions outside of these words.
Six hundred and fifty miles will soon separate us and put a strain on me.
Because of you and my woven tragedy,
I'm gaining an ache directly below my breast bone.
It's barely there,
not at all visible to the naked eye.
But it's starting to cut just a little close,
getting much nearer to my throat.
It's clogging up with an ache that rivals the one growing just beneath my hard-won shell.

You've made your lasting impression on me and my nervous system.
Your eyes are forever imprinted on the insides of my eyelids,
unable to be rubbed away.

Now I'm just left with this chaotic pain,
and echoes of words screamed into my face.

A touch is enough for a rush to send me reeling.
I've been wheeling and dealing my way through chaos only to have found Myself knee-deep in it.
I'm dying to get out,
Lying to try to save myself,
And fighting to get to you.
A touch is enough of a rush to send me to Heaven,
Enough of a rush to render me utterly speechless.

~


Dreaming past snow drifts
Framing the distance
Starlight reflections
Closer than tomorrow
Touching my skin

                                                     ~
                              Through soft woolen mittens
                              Ski jacket hugs, turtleneck wishes
                              Snow angel dreams and icicle kisses
                              Slipping my heart inside of your pocket
                              Where it is warm, safe and secure
                                                      ~

­Calling in echoes
Across the white valley
Listen to the wind
Feel the wintry whispers
Touching your skin

born poverty stricken, 
she lay her head on no mattress..
still she sung along to mary j. blige, like religious practice..

Stronger with each tear was the motto,
&so; she shed..
Because its hard to have dreams when you don't have a bed..

Its hard to have food for thought when you cant afford bread.
& the local Goodwill is dead..

Her speech was absurdly intact, & well spoken.
you would assume a girl trapped like that, wouldn't be open,
Yet.
Just 14, she showed potential of a graduate, beyond bachelors.
&& in our city record deals are the only time we owned Masters.

beneath those hazel eyes. there lies an old soul,
told, 
by her surroundings her future was a pole. 
bold, 
in her approach, how she stripped away the cold.
now dances in the daisies, dodging Hades, never sold.

&this; is no figment of imagination,
how her eyes hazel pigment, 
had the power to judge a nation.

Because she woke up daily, prepared as **** for that math test..
Though she was born poverty stricken, lay her head on no mattress..




-afj

it’s christmas and you’re still made of starlight
you still shine and glow in my memories like the blooming night sky
in my mind your eyes burst with the galaxies of your soul
your skin is still filled with constellations

it’s christmas and i shouldn’t be thinking of you
i shouldn’t be thinking of your mouth and your smile
i shouldn’t think of the glint of your hair
i shouldn’t be thinking of the kisses we did and didn’t share

it’s christmas and the moon is out
i’ve had fun, of course
i’d just have had more fun with you here, love

it’s christmas and you will always be made of starlight
you are a nebula, a comet, a burning sun, a red giant.

i would never go as far as to say you are my world
but you are your own universe,
and you glow