Everyday absent
You occupy my mind
Everyday present
The freedom divine
Grateful for the days
Impassioned by the signs
Indebted to your grace
Elegant by design
Forever captivated
Forever grateful to call you mine

I feel like a flower that blooms with every lover that looks into my eyes;

But then the fear the engulfs me is that I will die as the season ends.

you want to see
how soft and tender my flesh is
and crack the inside of my mind open
like a pomegranate,
ruby jewels spilling onto white sheets.
i offer my plum ripe heart to you greedily
prey wanting to be hunted,
only to be left with sticky hands
from trying to hold myself together
when you walk away.

i wish i hadn’t let you go as quickly as i did
because
i think you would like me better now
when i tell stories, i don't exaggerate things
and i don’t act like a child
so much has changed
nothing has stayed
but i think that it’s okay
because
i’m not the same girl that you knew when you left
but really, neither are you
i know everything was for the better
but, i just think you’d like me better now

Walk in
the garden
of the moon
as a lover,
the flowers of
you becomes
a guest within
the heart,
it does
not ask
of how
you bloom,
but, of how
you became
the home.

My heart started shrieking when she said love could not save us. “How else can you explain this?” I protested as I pulled my bleeding heart out of my hollow chest. “This old thing swears to be yours, and yours only” I said with a lump in my throat. “Here is my heart, it is fragile. Break it anyway, if you must.” I cried.

The flowers she picked for me still haunt me. “How cruel of her. To **** a blooming flower for a lover she soon will ****, softly” I thought, but my dancing heart did not agree with me. “Yield” Pleaded my heart. “Yield! Surender yourself to her”. And so I did.

There's an ache deep within my heart
An itch that cannot be scratched
Perhaps, a space that cannot be filled in
Currently occupied with anger, confusion, and pain

Nor am I clear on what I'm looking for
But every now and then, the tears do pour in a stupor
...

Is this loneliness?...
But I'm happy alone,
Always been,
happy on my own...
Is this ungratefulness?...
But what is it that is my happiness?...

...

No invitations have been yet sent
It will remain a vacant room, no one to rent
For now and a little bit longer,
... I know,... for sure..
For sure...

As bitter as it is bitter,
let's somehow keep looking for... the better...

The better...
The... better...
?
...

I hope to come home soon
but there's no place to call so.
Homesick, i think of sea air
since i turned my back on her.
No return to the sailing city
I mull over a wicked what if.
I ache to spend time alone, no
wind blows in the metropolis.
The crowd belts around me,
blocks view of the lighthouse.
Set anchor in a sea of concrete,
the saving grace’s disappeared.