She would rather be a Sunday love,
the one that makes you think of picnics
and church-bells,
and gives you hope
after Saturday's disastrous spell.
She imagines herself an entity of love,
in which she is
the dragonfly skirting the pond,
or a gentle, cooling breeze,
creating art upon your skin
to linger briefly in your mind.
Like her, I myself would much prefer
the subtle grace of Sunday;
but sadly, I am Saturday,

and I have a ways to go.

A common regularity,
far from a classic rarity.
Painted streaks of words,
in a monotone minor of thirds.

A repetition of strokes in action,
unaware of the situation.
Beautiful abstractions,
of created translations.

No words of assurance,
could explain the abrupt piece,
destroyed for insurance.
A beautiful disaster to release.

Holding on tight to the things we love,
Never to fly away and become history like a romantic dove.

If we lose what is close we feel broken inside,
When in reality we are fighting with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Never fear the unknown and go into the darkness,
Holding onto materialism until you see a sky that is starless.

Don’t be blinded by greed and power,
True happiness lies in greener pastures.
Internal happiness to avoid third party disasters.

Wind rustles your curtains, the breeze tickles your cheek
Air swirls around your room as I enter, and all warmth you felt slowly trickles from your veins
Darling, we both know how this will go.
You’re seeing blue while I’m seeing nothing,
If we had mood rings yours would be aqua while mine would break, with the chemical solution dripping down my hands
The glacial wall between us stops us from speaking
And then comes the water.
The tsunami plummets into your house
As I can’t control any of my emotions
All you see is a distortion of what used to be;
The sensation of drowning is the only thing keeping us conscious
But I am a storm, and I am not done.
My scream rolls like thunder through the state,
Everyone knows.
Lightning flashes as I throw useless objects around:
My phone, your pencil, the last scrap of my sanity.
The fire commences quickly,
My anger and self-hatred are ready to combust
I blame her for this, but we both know it isn’t why
Smoke clouds our minds as you try extinguishing me
But I burn even brighter
Before my match reaches it end and flickers out.
And, to conclude, in comes the rain.
Rain floods my face, as I run from you, from your house, from myself
You must watch as the storms rise up to meet me, as I run into the fire
As I slam myself into the glacier
As the rain chokes me
As the wind pushes me towards my fate
I am a natural disaster.
Make sure you don’t get stuck in the eye of the storm.