Inhale.
Exhale.
A simple task that made the day great,
Yet every time I stop and listen to your words,
My head starts pounding,
My eyes turn red.
I bite my tongue to keep from yelling back.
Tears start to bubble, threating to spill onto my rosy cheeks.
I start to see the gray clouds turn red as I hear the disappointment in your voice.
Breath.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I relax,
Though the tears still silently fall down.
I take it all,
Knowing it'll happen again.

Have a petal from down the sun,
a lapis lazuli hue of the blue sky
and a breath of fresh air?
All these are in place so on so forth,
now head to the true north!

They say there are storms in
                                            teacups.

There like a summer breeze,


compared
              to the tsunami
         of caffeine denial.
                   That floods
                    upon the shores of my

         day washing everyone away.

I need my Jave, like I need to breath..

Everytime I see people kiss there’s an explosion in my heart that mimics the feeling of when your lips hit mine.
A sweet collision breaking through any premeditated resistance, I feel power in your breath, Intertwining, flowing into and out of my own. Not taking from, not adding too, but existing with.
So when I tell you “you take my breath away” understand what I really mean,
when we kiss I can feel god.
When we kiss my spirit jumps for joy and gets so excited he slips right out my nostrils and sits on the ceiling
When we kiss seconds get longer, I can see sounds, hear color, and the goose bumps on your skin just feel like love notes.

In the next minute I will breath forty three times, and I will blink twenty.

In the next hour fifty eight people would have driven by, riding the highway to a place unknown.

In the next day I will awake ready to face the challenges of life and school.

In the next week school will be done and we will taste the sweet dew of complete freedom.

In the next month I will have adventures far and wide, spreading my arms wide to catch the spirit of time.

In the next year I will be older, I will enjoy other things and be much more experienced.

In the next 50 years I will be 65, the world beginning to fade around me and lose the luster it once held for young eyes.

In the next century I will have long since passed, no-one lives forever. The only sign of me will be a windworn grave and stories passed down to children I never had the chance to meet.

In the next thousand years I no longer exist. My name will never pass the lips of any being upon the Earth, all who knew me will be dead and gone, without stories to tell of me I will fade.

In the next hundred years I will finally fade, but in the next hour I will smile.

In the next week I will cry.

In the next year I will live, I will make the most of my time.