To witness the entire world bathed in a single hue—  
I must have been battling for ages, confined to the realm
of purple through these battered, violet eyes. Yet, I found
myself dreaming—gently; amidst a sea of blossoms that
blanket the earth, soft carpets for my tender feet; the
fragrant embrace of lavender.  

So intoxicating was the scent that the deeper I ventured,  
the more it constricted my throat, stifled by the words  
I longed to voice. I wander through lavender dreams—
bewildered and lost; forever searching for a tangible end to
this reverie.  I leap, I tumble, I labour, and I cry out—  
carefully navigating the edges of reality, only to become
ensnared in a daydream.

But aren’t the lavenders as enchanting as her gaze; a girl I
yearned to love, though our time together was fleeting.

We never shared that vision of a wedding day adorned  
with lavender blooms, yet still, I hold onto the dream  
where I walk in dreams of lavender.

Are we meant to dissect
These poems with laboratory
Efficiency and precision?
Are we meant to
Pull them apart and
Split their seams and
Inspect them for flaws?
Or
Are we meant to
Let them spill into us and
Let their loveliness warm our
Souls!
Let them speak and sing and
Sweetly stutter, with a flutter
Let them trace our spirits back
Let them, like a flame, attract
Us until we are, like moths, consumed—
To love a flower, let it bloom.

The moon crashes
into ocean night spilling
iridescence o'er me,
o'er half-opened eyes.
Bathed in the soft glow
of my friend holding me
beneath dappled shadows of
a whispering tree, I wake
from infinite dream to return
a blossoming flower—
A light has come to me now
in this midnight hour.

The lonely flower
among the grasses,
I found you a beauty
among the masses.

Your ebony eyes
took my soul a hostage,
becoming less than a human
more like a servant of cupid.

I am in peace
hearing your heartbeat,
your voice, like a siren
slowly sinking me deep.

Oh, it's scary
how hard I dance
in your grasp; in your tune
I am a puppet of love.

Seems like I inhaled
your pollens—toxic
I have fallen, even though
your red petals blazes.

She is beautiful.
She sits alone, solitary.
Fragrence flows from her flesh,
yet she still sits, breathing the air of the valley.

Delicate she is,
her petals billow in the wind.
She is perfection.
A lie could never fall from her tounge.

Xochitl, flower.
Flower...
shes so sickiningly sweet.
Delicate, sweet, perfect.

When she bloomed she sung.
A magestic hymn that rung through the valley.
One day she'll wilt, her petals falling to the ground.
One day her song will stop.

through all the nights i spent
utterly smitten for you and searching for the
longing of a life with you that
intrigues even the simplest of ideas that
plays over and over in my head.