like a nightingale
the sound of your sweet voice
falls on-soft, on my eager ears,
with my eyes still closed
i see your beauty too....
eyes like a morning star,
with a dark crescent's hug;
an inviting stare that's wide open
and then quickly shut,
like my little sister's doll
twinkling bright
with eyes of pure crystal...
how intoxicating your beauty is....
or shall i dare say it is love
that tries me to your memory
that your face peeps
and my heart leaps
in this calm morning.
oh, it must be love
that i hate to wake up,
grip the sheets, avoid the sun
holding on to your memory...
as much as i can.

A penny for my thoughts? No.
How about a million dollars?

That’s enough to solidify all my young adult debt, debt I’ve collected from a world too expensive to accommodate anyone.

Its enough to pay off all the outstanding emotional debt from the men and women who never even gave me an IOU.

It’s enough to pay off the pile of torn open envelopes in my trash can from therapy sessions that consisted in me drowning in my tears over my father’s abandonment but never helping me feel any less lonely.

It’s enough to pay back my mother for the roles she’s played in my life, the shoes she shouldn’t have had to fill. The house she couldn’t afford to buy but did anyway to give us a sense of stability and never complained about it once.

A million dollars for my thoughts? Hell, I’d drown off my own sorrows in Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, lipstick, whiskey, and regret.

With so much money, I’d move to a nicer place, a nicer apartment.
I’d paint my apartment of hues of lilac and yellow and play old records by candlelight and in between kisses tell my lover that I am finally happy. But that it wasn’t he who made me happy, it was my money, but we’d never talk about that.

With a million dollars, I’d never be afraid to speak my mind. With that amount of money people would be my friend by default, that’s how it works right? When you’re rich and happy. More emotionally exhausting friendships, forgiven by birthday party invitations, fishing for thousand-dollar watches that would countdown the minutes until I became just a memory of a girl who left an unwrapped watch on a gift table at a birthday party. The watch left as vulnerable as I would feel in that moment.

With that kind of money, I’d openly tell my middle school crush I was in love with her and how much she tore my heart apart and I’d instantly get a restraining order because with that kind of money I’d feel important enough to be stalked. I know she won’t care.

My thoughts, not even worth a penny.

a fraction of an instant
leaves a salty-sweet taste in my mouth
an aching feeling of nostalgia
comparable to hunger
emotions like these aren't enjoyable
a war is fought
an intense battle
between happy
and sad
somewhere a stalemate is found
and outcomes bittersweet
crashing through the brambles to ruin everyone's mood
a confusion of the senses
with no satisfaction
a stinging injustice
that the woe dealt
cannot be properly mourned
due to the element of lingering happiness
still,
milk chocolate is found to be too sweet
and 100% cocoa
too dark
and so a compromise is made
everyone's favorite chocolate is bittersweet

I faced the bunnies of the apocalypse.

Their glare - ever so piercing,
             intruding,
                         alluring.

In purity, ceasing discontinuity,
the emotions so effervescent
Borderline present
in despair, the infernal chase

In a hellbent daze I secluded myself
From the vertigo of suicide, I was in a dazzle
The warmth of despair enveloping me
In golden hue.

Eerily
                        creeping
                   ­                          near
                                                     in
                                                       obscurity,

The effulgence of the universe darkened
my eyes.

The spinning epitome, ever so frightening
Enlightening, it drew
near.

The ambient visions speak       -       the devil sleeps
I stood amongst the burnt umber
in my heart.

The putrid dirt stains, the chocolate emulsion
Gagging me in repulsion, in absurdity of thee
The abominations dominate all

of my intention.

What do I know about you, really?
For certain, only a few things.
Nothing about pictures or loves,
about the ghosts in your heart,
or something as simple as your cigarette brand.
I've noticed that I know just enough
so I can't never reach.

We can die laughing, that's true
and that is important for someone
who doesn't laugh enough, as I.

If I told you that I wouldn't mind to know
what make your eyes like two burnt holes in a blanket,
would you shred my ears to pieces?

If I confessed that I hang on your words
like a thrilled coward, that I have died many times,
would you fell silent?

I accept that I also keep people in the dark,
flying blind. They must think "here goes nothing",
while they yearn for the ground. Have I done that to you?

If I was to fling myself onto you, for that matter,
absurd as the notion sounds, would you flinch away
and ask me to give my head a shake?

I know we are getting into the realm of imposible things,
of things that can blow up in my face. Don't mind me,
let me quietly keep on barking to the moon.

Let's get this to a conclusion.
I will be sincere and confese that
I don't see where you're coming from.
I tell you now, your are sweeter than
that dark chocolate you like so much.

Here's a favourite poem of mine:
https://m.poemhunter.com/poem/chocolate-cake/

And here's s poem of mine that it influenced:
 https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2174519/the-love-of-money/