If I could sing, I would write the melody of us in the key of happiness

If I could draw, I would paint a portrait of you just so you could always see the beauty that I do.

If I could dance, I would dance the night away with you in a fit of burning passion.

I may not be able to do every wonderful thing I wish I could for you, but I can write and these words are what I can offer. Will you please accept them and hold them close to your heart?

funny, isn't it? how facebook displays how long it's been since a person was last active. they remind me that i was a mere three hundred seconds from catching you online, but that's okay; no, really!, it is;

because my fingers are hovering over my keyboard and the blinker's just blinking in its white little space, this Type a message... glaring at me accusingly. wait, give me a second. what do i tell you? what should i say?

hi is safe. so is hello. hey seems a little too casual, doesn't it? should i put an emoji? a heart? no, no. a smiley face. but just the normal smiley face, not the one with closed eyes and everything. or maybe i should use that instead?

but /then what/?

i guess i could ask you how your day went. that sounds well enough. i can ask you about the weather. no, ******, it's always hot. nothing interesting there. i'll just branch out after you tell me what you've done today, where you've gone. oh, you went to the movies? that's great. last movie i watched was Captain America: Civil War. are you team cap or team iron man? peachy. just peachy. perfect. i've got this. i am s--

*******, you're online. why are you online? the green circle is just staring at me and oh my god, you're typing, you're typing in to our chat box. oh my god. i liked it better when you were inactive. when you were offline. now i just wait, maybe pretend i wasn't this loser waiting for you to talk to me, this loser who had you on my mind, this loser overthinking what i should say to y--

You (12:39 PM)
Hey. I was just thinking about you. :)

I want to bottle up your voice,
Wrap a red ribbon around the clear glass,
And tuck the bottle
Into a little hollow in my heart.

Your love was a cigarette:
burning bright for me after I struck a match.
I deprived myself of air,
to enjoy every drag.
Alas, cigarettes don't last long..
& now that you are gone..
I sit here, in a clouded room:
it's what remains of us.
Toxic lungs and a foggy mind!
Oh, cigarette lover,
how I wanted to make you mine!
Though: it seems what you had for me
was lust.
In your short-lived love, I put my trust.

You are the rose with fake petals
You are the diamonds worth less than lipsticks

You are the Converse with untied laces
You are the Svedka mixed with tears

You are the jacket that was thrifted,
You are the star with a light switch

You are the angel with foam wings,
You are the unseen thorn in the garden

You are the cigarette smoke that drifts
You are the needles in the dear sewing kit

You are the duchess of comfortable silence
You are the countess of disclusion

You are the sweetest pill in the box,
but the most bitter drink in the afternoon

I express my thoughts as vividly
as the silver patches above

My sentences crawl out of me
like the uncertain nature reserve recluse

My gestures stumble outward
and trip over furrowed brows from afar

I approach you in a jagged curve
as I attempt to dodge the comically apparent

My declarations bump into a brick wall
that is graffitied with your hazy implications

My assurance is an frozen valley pond
upon which you glide across, yet to slip or fall

I attempt to make the earnest connection
only to discover the grey clouds in the distance

Oh dear oh **** oh ****
But where is that umbrella?

let my seeds push through the crevices of entrenched doubts

let my stems poke at the cobwebs of rusted assumptions

let my thorns sting back at the chill of raw honesties

let my petals conceal me like the kisses of ambiguous flattery

let my branches bridge me across the creek of negelcted assurances

& let my roots hold me down, in the soil of what is certain

The angels that you can and cannot see
float in and out of life so gracefully;
enfold in winged embraces one by one,
celestial comforters when day is done.
Some angels take the shapes of passers-by
so you might see the Spirit in their eyes.
A smile that lifts the day from the mundane;
a kind hand up, a loving act conveyed.
The unseen angels hover in the realm
where power manifested overwhelms
our common senses. There behind the scenes
they battle fears and reinforce our dreams.
Take counsel from a humbled man, once proud;
they only enter lives when they're allowed.