I love to stare at clouds
Not because of the fact that they can be
Whatever suits me
When you stare at them

My love for clouds is because they are
Such a cliche metaphoric version of me
Clouds are made up of little things
Always running from their past

But eventually they will make life hell
With words of rain they spit onto you
Strike you down with lightening
Only then do they realize what damage
And despair
They had caused the innocent
And much like me the clouds
Disappear into the thin air

i. you broke both my legs and i'm still trying to walk. you ripped concertos from the back of my throat and said,
"look how beautiful you are."

ii. you don't have a nice smile. you smile like it's hurting you, like it's tearing you apart from the inside and you choke out words like stakes digging into my back, saying,
"then again, you did seem heaven sent."

iii. you sing church hymns with your whole self, your body pulsating with the force of it. you look at me when you sing, narrow your eyes as you kiss me, singing amazing grace like it actually meant something to you.

iv. you're biblical. you kiss my fingers and hiss holy words into the spaces between them, recite verses when we go to sleep at night, whispering,
"i don't have much faith left for messiahs, but i'm pretty sure you could be one."

v. i hate you and i don't know why. actually, that's wrong. i hate you because you never really died, did you, you're still here, imprinted across every surface in my house did you know that having an eidetic memory means i will never be able to forget you?

vi. you shattered my jaw and took the remains with you, painting a mural in different shades of red, saying,
"sweetheart, this is how you look best."

vii. you told me once that vampires are just vengeful angels and i don't know if i still believe that. i don't know if i ever believed that. i don't know what you believe when you tell me,
"look at the mess you've made."

viii. i wonder how long i've been faithless, or faithful. whatever you want to call it, sweetheart, when you say,
"you could have been all this, love, and more."

i've never wanted to be something that touches the human skin casually since the day i met you and i can see the universe in clear high-definition from your gray eyes, they remind me of the moon

"Always"
Is an understatement
For the number of times I think of you

You see,
"Always" doesn't quite understand what it means
To wonder how your smile manages to lock itself
In my heart
And how your voice plays in my head
Like an annoying alarm clock
Whose snooze button I never even care to press
"Always" doesn't understand
The way I see you in every daydream
And the way I fit you into every metaphor
I could ever come up with

So when you asked me if always thought of you
I said, "No."

No, I don't always think of you
I don't have to.

Blue is the deepness of the oceans
Blue is the frailness in emotions

Blue is the touch of winters cold air
Blue are the colors I like to wear

Blue are my secrets locked away
Blue are the melodies of a rainy day

Blue is the color of the mellow skies
Blue is the sadness in my eyes

Blue is the soul of what is dead
Blue are the memories in my head

Blue are the damages left in my heart
Blue are the beauties of what I call art

Blue is the spirit of all my vitality
Blue is the look of my personality

Blue is my life and all that I love
Blue is all I'm made out of

His name,
Tastes like,
Sweet, soft velvet,
On my tongue.

Do you also wince at the seeds of a watermelon
crawling there inside your mouth?
Do you also feel the bile inside begin swelling?
No way now it won't come out.

I eat only the ripest from the market
yet am forced to spit out with haste.
All the maggots and vermin seem to target
just the fruit I yearn to taste.

Life is a malicious prankster
and whatever grows are her tools.
If you're handed lemons, don't thank her-
for the only ones who take it are fools.