his eyes are one of my favorite things about him.
but i can never draw him, much more his eyes.
not even when i try.
i can never capture the way his eyes glow
as soft as a little star when he smiles softly,
or as bright as the sun when he beams.

i can never copy the intensity of his gaze
without my pencil lead breaking or my hand tensely shaking,
in fear of giving injustice to such opened and clear windows
to his beautiful soul.

i can never shade enough to give it the depth similar to reality.
i can never bring out the emotion of his eyes
with my pencils
like the way he does with his heart.
i can never draw the flutter of his eyelids,
the curls of his lashes,
the color of his irises,
or the void of his pupils,
all of which i get entranced and ****** into the blackhole of his soul.

i can never draw him in the simplest way:
his eyes staring at me.
because i can never look into his eyes
or lock gazes with him--
not even with a still portrait.

They once loved him
and soon tied their whim
but forsakenness spurned so  
early to tender their mulberry
that a night as bold in toe
where a fleece of whiten civility
thus foretold their lamb.

Dear kid you are the picture
of heart on well worn sleeve.
You oiled every wave of
raw emotion
and etched it on your own face.

Each time you draw a tear
the cascades fill your sorry eyes.
Far cry from masterpiece,
or symphony
but your truest portrait caught in time.

Deep breaths and it will all be ok in the morning
It's ok to feel
It's ok to cry
But don't think
Just breathe
Draw
Doodle out simple things
Flowers and bunnies
Don't think
Don't connect
Breathe and draw
Until the your breathing is no longer staggered
And your body stops shaking
Then crawl into bed
Wrap yourself up
Like an Eskimo
Go blank
Don't think
Just feel
Feel until your insides are dead
And you drift off to sleep

You were my Queen of Hearts
A top card to draw
My Queen of Diamonds
In the ruff
The best I ever saw
Turned out
You were just a lump of coal
And just as cold
The Ace of Spades
With a very blackened soul
You made a Joker out of me

understand me
see..
the curve of my cheekbones underskin
the relax of my shoulders
as I exhale and..
I don't ask for perfection.
but try..

I’ve drawn a heart upon my arm
to remind me of the love I owe
this body that I own.

I’ve drawn a heart upon my skin
to tell myself to love
this suit that I wear.

I’ve drawn a heart with silver blades
upon the skin I so detest.

I’ve drawn a heart with  ****** paint
to save the soul that lives within.

an angry argument thrown at an opponent as arrows shoot across the battlefield over an expensive bottle of Cabernet.

walls and borders mapped out in thick pencil lines, they hastily marked their territory before it all drowned in earthy blood-red.

Fresh pepper, sir?