you rain against my windows in the middle of the night
your soft noises bring sleep to me
you snow in my mind throughout the day
covering all my thoughts in a soft blanket
you rustle the leaves to lull me through the open window
on difficult days
you tell me your stories, filled with amazing journeys
and make me smile, or sob, in the dim light of my bedroom
and i appreciate
everything youve done for me
even though ive done
nothing
to deserve you

i wonder if a

soul shattered with that bottle

that sits there alone

the days when
the sweet violets charmed the money out of men's pockets
just to hide away
the days when roses were proud and used their thorns wisely
snakes bathed in the sun where they were warm and welcome
spiders had simple lives of luxury with their homemade hammocks strung out
snow didnt alarm the masses
because it just meant sharing their homes with those who had
nothing besides the open air

The sun, passionate lover, persistently follows his beloved,
gentle river, a demure maiden from the hills.
Though  sparkles and glows on his attention,
she loves to shelter more, within the woods, out of his reach.
When she at last comes out in the open,
to the planes, look! how much overjoyed the resplendent sun!
With his million magical hands he embraces her
she turns  crimson, in her intense desire
then comes the subtle moment of ecstasy,
in the ocean, they both conjoin, together they swim till nightfall,
the story is enacted, in endless variations, between these lovers.

the summer sun sent down flames to lick their skin
and the auburn of the trees in the morning made them consider the end of days
and the bird and bee found refuge in the wood
and there was a lightness to the morning air that
sent them down in to the lake

     with the snow came their unending dreams of fault
and the dead were buried under the white
and the ice cut their lines
and their breaths were drawn short because of
the lack of atmosphere

     shards of multicolored luminescence paved paths down their arms
and the scars shone like tattoos on the moondust
and the sidewalks crumbled underneath diseased limbs
and their motionless silhouettes down the hillside proved
that there was more to death than dying

and with that single sentence my heart
hammers inside of my chest and i
i cant breathe
what is wrong you ask
what is wrong
that is a good question that
i wish i could answer
your prying cant help me
because what is wrong
is no outside force
it comes from within
it is the rapid palpitations of my heart that i swear
will **** me young
and the sudden breathlessness
it isnt worth the air anyway
why this panic the world questions

i dont know

i dont know

i'm not smart
and yet i feel that i know enough to
know that i'm ready to fade out
you'll find me in the stars
if you squint