Whatever you do, remember you were, you will be, and you are

Great.

Dancing in a ten
percent chance of rain;
In part, because it
beat the odds -
More so, because
it never even
considered them.
Perhaps, it was even
in spite of them.
Or maybe it just
reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
self-righteous tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

Either way..

You can tell me
it won't rain,  
but you won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but you won't keep
me from dancing..

This is a warfare;
                               we keep  it in photograph,
                               we keep it in pages,
                               we keep it a secret.

                              I thought I was a keeper

and then everything is heavenly
                                  You are beautiful at daytime,
                                  and shining bright at night.
                                  "You are ethereal"
                                                       ­          the distance is an animosity
                                                       ­          though, we keep on
                                                                ­ reaching  
                                                    ­             It is not about the
                                                             proximity
                                                                ­Yearning; we were still
                                                                ­looking at the same sky.

I thought I could keep you (as I keep everything about you)

you wouldn't  be able to held the sky as it was meant to be ethereal

She keeps
the photo to herself.
Sometimes
she shares
with me
the memories
when she goes.
And
among all
that
is stored,
her names
are the things
that cannot
be forgotten.
She keeps
her heart to herself,
and my heart to myself.
She keeps
the things
I shouldn't.
I keep
the discrepancy.

It seems most poets are inspired by nature
I'm mostly inspired by the nature of me
It is commonly sadness and anger
that fuel my poetry

summer rain comes again
with the pained cry of someone
who isn't quite me.
summer rain comes again
where white meets gray
and lies are true.

static love
isn't love at all.
and i'm not sure
if i could trust you
if i were to fall.

with a single touch
the flowers beneath my skin
unearth and uproot.
with a single cut
i can easily erase
each and every mistake
that i've ever made.