Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars

Roses fall, silent;
In moonlight, like pouring rain.
On the leaves, dew hangs

A girl with a crush
every pure thought in her heart
she buries deep
until she misses
the warmth of spring
the romance in the summer
and the fall season comes
only to realize that love is gone
the days
when she didn't have the courage
to say
the words
bloom in regret
black blue grenade
shrapnel wound
seems an eternity
when she carefully peels back memories
wrapped so tightly in time
she starts to see
a scintilla
pink and odd
a clutch of stars
dark red and blinking
every bit as pellucid
as the teardrop coalesced
in her eyes.

There's this girl who is invisible,
You can see her outline when it rains,
And though most don't,
I notice her,
And I sing to her songs about pain.

There's this girl who is invisible,
We've talked and I've quoted some poems,
And even though I can't see it,
I know that she smiles, alone.

There's this girl who is invisible,
She dances outside in the rain,
And sometimes I like to watch her,
As she dances to the songs I sing.

There's this girl who is invisible,
Sometimes she just stands all alone,
And if that is the case,
I come to her,
And I hold to her arm, and we go.

There's this girl who is invisible,
I saw her at first in the rain,
And we met when I brought an umbrella,
And we talked through the night and the day.

There's this girl who is invisible,
And only I stand by her side,
And even though,
I seem alone,
I pray that she's standing by mine.

~
Belonging to Eden,
the garden of
inescapable pleasure.

Prepare to fall again
for the pretty things.

The desire to preserve life
lies at the root.

The way of flowers
--let them beckon and bloom--
sincerely upright,
vessels for memories,
methods of communicating
with distant versions of yourself,
a conversation that could
drift into tears or laughter,
personal revelation
or total silence,
depending on the mood.

If only time and thought
could be as perfectly
arranged as flowers.
~

i sit and watch you and wait like a dog
always just two steps behind you and
always just begging you for scraps

as if two seconds of your attention
would be enough to fill my empty, empty stomach
as if two mere seconds would ever be enough

but you can't even give that-
my friends say i'm too nice and you just call out my name
and when i see that familiar self-satisfied smile on your face

i just become a bad liar and i just look the other way
and i go back to pretending like your bare minimum
is enough to fix my bellyache