And it may take years,
But you'll see I will be
The one you wished to love
The way you wished to love me.
Or I shall be
The mate of your soul
And your bestest friend.
Either way, my love
I will be forever happy
To be yours.
I still trust you with my heart, just like a promised it away again yesterday, freely, and happily so.
A Zippo lighter with a smoker's cough
propositioned to the Ladybug
one carton of American Spirits from Montreal.
the first time I saw a warning label scuttle.
"PERTE DE LA VUE"
you can always trust matches to light the neglected beetle,
clinging his chest.
we stumble, to entangle.
White birch wood weaving baskets from branches
caskets from canvas
red/black marble sloppy, from rose goggles.
I blot Rorschach ink from
my eyes, a blind linguist, lost
in messenger inboxes.
killing Lady Bugs.
When did I ever feel okay
with people liking some picture of me
that I spend hours editing?
It's not real.
That was lit
On our first
Hi and Hello
With our last
I love you.
Nunc est bibendum,
nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus*
Now is the time to
Now the time to
the clay of
waltz your way
The courage of your beauty overwhelms.
"Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus"
-The Odes of Horace
There comes a point as you sit there
trying to untangle your fingernails from between your teeth
as your leg bounces at a million miles a minute,
and you think Jesus Christ how’d I get here?
Shadows on the screen and a pinch with spreading cold
as you nearly shake yourself off the table,
you clutch at the cage on your head
and breathe deep.
I wonder how long it will take me to be whole.
You might think that this sounds odd or possibly vain, but it is a thought that torments me constantly as I am driving home in the wee hours of the morning.
I'm tired of being captured by the picture that others have of me, as I am more than a nervous disposition and a small frame.
Everyday I go through the motions, yet everyone I experience seems to see right through me. I am only a temporary splotch of paint that will be covered up on their canvas of convenience.
I finally reached my breaking point, and as I stood there with tears leaking through my closed eyes, you asked me if I was okay and at first I didn't even hear your voice.
I try to keep my emotions under control, but I have come to accept the fact that humans can only hold in so many different feelings before they explode.
You saw the small crumble of my body and mind, watched all of my colors pour out of me, and yet you stayed.
I am entirely grateful.