You're delicate.
Intricate.
Purposely astonishing.
Visually clear and teary eyed prepared,
swaying over the ****.
Darkly swept and fragile,
you are my memory.
Balanced and ever-so-still,
I suppress you.
During the same night in tilted repeat,
running empty under the winter coat of snow bare and hollow,
My breaths murmur,
I'm forgetting you.

To see a simple face and capture it in all simplicity
is like a pattern of depth and emotion burning my flesh repetitively.
To gaze into eyes so hidden and wanting,
but of something other than it sees.
To retrace the words spoken on his lips,
where a smile curves at each end making me smile,
making me only wonder of what I am thinking.
To imagine touching while pale flesh I imagine so soft,
so innocent,
so longing,
so...him.
I think of you slumbering,
quiet for once,
shy how I see you,
fading into the darkness engulfed in patches underneath your steps,
breathing once more within me a connection of exquisite pain,
the exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable
so breathtaking,
so innocent,
so longing,
so...you.

Linked heartfelt breaths of wonderment,
hold onto depth and I,
I lost bites of perfect sight.
Gray blind skies hate heights,
but I won't flutter timelessly,
I'll sink for you.
Cloth dispersing like ashes with water,
leave my memories with an abyss of patches,
my happiness hides the right to blink and take flight.
Skies play along as endless pockets of summers web,
with its wind lovely and emptier than the glitches of glass shards.
I'll rip my skins cavity for you.

I knew I liked you
when I felt a knot in my stomach,
I was searching for the will to breathe.
I knew there was something different when I saw you smile,
teeth exposed across your soul,
when I began to wonder what you were thinking.
I knew I had to stand a minute more just to see you pass,
being yourself,
the first thing I ever saw.
And I knew I had to let you walk away,
since I coward inside,
where I find myself too vulnerable to speak.
Here I knew,
we'd speak someday,
when I work up the courage
to let the fear fade away.
For this,
I knew I liked you.

Whispers suppressed her laughter,
It was an acknowledgable sentimental factor.
Shoves and tossings of her hair went unnoticed through the air.
Piece by Piece she witnessed.
Second by second she felt.
This was her life as she called it,
a warm September morning,
waiting for life's December.
Endless white snow.

One simple thing,
ending it by a strand at a time.
You were a hollow summers eve
trapped in the rays of sunlight.
A wave too perfect to out tumble
the sea's current.
A heartbeat to quick to withstand
a seniors body.
And a smile too great that tried to make the earth crumble.
You'll always be my world's struggle.

Simple stares,
elegant glares,
befuddling stuttering,
let it be released,
your words that is.
Even if the comprehending syllables
make up riddles.
In the end,
you'll always confuse me.

One could only adore the combination the beautiful word "our" creates.
Like a bonding,
like meaning,
attempting to seal everything within the body of cement.
Placing strings and emotions through an electrical current,
hoping to only survive the storm.
Wishing to carve away the nervousness,
the insecurities,
and to lock everything else away underneath the skin.
To be inside the "our".

To remember words written and caressed in whispers
sincerely touched within memory
holds me captive,
lost willingly in thought.
Only to see an image,
and feel my strength drained,
smile forth my essence,
and beg me to listen of winters sprout
and of mid day slumber.
Guide my eyes to see with open mindedness,
and sit beside yourself and I,
as a third party with curious eyes and whispers.
Only then you'd see my thoughts of you,
bare and rare in simplicity.
I'd count on your with my fears,
hopes,
and my frail,
lean,
soft thoughts.
And soon enough,
I'd love to be considered as something secure but
rarely ever understood.
As you allowed it,
I'd fill the chest lost in breaths.
I'd replay the times I laughed and felt alive,
enclosed in a snow globe.
You'd be the falling snow enclosed with me,
always there to be there.
We'd never grow with age.
I'd remain there.

I'm relatively positive you enjoy indulging in the fact that I'll always drown for you.
And evidently,
I'm surprised to realize that I live for the moments when you'll look right through me,
and see only confinement.
But how I wish I could only be the blankets that cradle you and more.
To have the opportunity to be smothered by the feel and press of your lips,
your flesh...
and why,
I'd die happily for every second of my life,
but only with the condition that I lose consciousness every time
in the warmth of your arms,
feeling you kiss me
as my heart skips one millionth of a beat.
Only then would I slip away feeling entirely broken
and complete at the same time.

It's been forever since I've seen you last,
and for that moment I admit lasts in cycles,
bisecting itself as the minutes grow longer and endless.
For it was right when we met,
and also a second time when I searched for and found you beside the bench underneath the bus stop.
And as you jumped for my attention,
my heart swelled and froze,
just as you smiled and rushed to me with open arms,
clothed in your favorite striped pull over,
eyes blazing and lips igniting the soft brush of my flesh.
And it was endless since I saw you last,
but I knew this,
and you knew it,
and we knew it more vividly together,
just as we counted down the minutes,
minutes til I'd be able to run into your arms once more.

Empty sounds rushing through a November morning.
Long breaths creaking through a bedroom windows rattle.
Soft strokes of the skin break its comfort.
Tunnels of longing float through a mind's encouraging thrusted composure.
Ascending reveries flutter.
I'm left with a thought.

When the world seems quiet and my breaths come out to whisper,
I'll remember you,
and the one moment I held onto.
The laughter we shared,
this thought I confront,
I'll remember.

Knees slightly touching.
Shoulders arched.
Lips dry.
Eyes lingering.
Breaths distant,
words carefully chosen.
I know you enough to believe it all to be true.
You know me well enough to hope it all your own.
Thoughts smothered.
One more hour to let it all go.
Several years to spare to rekindle.
I'll lie awake.
You'll look at me.
We'll rekindle.

As time leaks,
I begin to pinch the edges of three year old paper,
trying to hold inside the memories I see in pictures.
Just as if I were to stumble,
the people within the memory would burst out and run among my era.
And if I’d allow of it,
I’d stumble heavier than earth’s weight,  
And believe that the world would hold still for a moment,
and I’d be carried away within the memory.
I could give my paper friends the organs that see to it I breathe and move and feel and touch.  
I wouldn’t need to breathe anymore,
nor touch the withering pages that hold the truth to how much time has passed.
I could be inside the globe I would always dream of.
The paper globe.

Beautiful Bree,
Don't fear.
I love your smile,
You are my sunshine.
Blink those long eyelashes of yours,
and whisper softly through your astonishing smile.
These breaths reach my soul.
I can hear your heartbeat through the air,
through the atmosphere,
through me.
Beautiful Bree,
Don't reminisce so much.
Don't fight what you feel,
Please do not forget.
Hold on for the ride.
Beautiful Bree,
Autumn approaches.
I will see you soon.
My beautiful Bree,
Remain True.
Here i leave you with flowers.

Planted at a window sitting,
Annabel Lee’s character gazed,
searching for obscurity,
the hidden mirror beneath her fingertips.
And as the window began to dim in clarity and the outside world grew brighter,
Annabel Lee extended to hide her palm and remaining limbs beside her neck, wrapping her cold fingers around the remaining area of flesh,
accepting days passing of remaining unacknowledged,
filled in the swimming waves of her sitting heart.
Soon, time leaped and shades of gray passed her by,
hanging in the seasonal rain,
spots of ache from the twilight sea standing three blocks away.
And in the daytime as Annabel Lee kept quiet,
she became captivated and enthralled  in the unseen and braided world,
a curiosity that kept her body from blooming,
from peeling away the deeply scented perfume that remained underneath her skin.
But when fall approached and the leaves outside grew bright orange,
she followed the steps to her front door in assurance that she was only dreaming.
And when Annabel Lee began shaking and touching the doorknob for the first time thinking she didn’t know what she was searching for anymore and jumping in her skin whining that she wasn’t ready,
the door flew open and with lights touch her body was swept away,
and sweet Annabel Lee left behind every premature thought she had ever had.
She was only seventeen.