Opulent expatriate of mine vision's,
I delayed for thee on a timeclock not known to terrestrial creature's...
I hath seen thy feature's
Whence I was perched upon the lozenge conduit,
Henceforth knowing it was thee,
Mine other half....
Mine anodyne of high godly class.....
Mine spirit without thee is halfed,
Like a split down mine center.....

For thou hath entered me
Through the eye's
And into mine conscience!!!!
For thou feeleth as if thyself hath no worth,
But I remembered thee at ourn spiritual birth
From whence we were covered in blankets!!!
Warmed by eachother's skin...

Mi amour'
Do not get jealous
Mi amour,
Didst thou knoweth?
Thou art mine Aurora Borealis....

I JUST WANT MINE QUEEN BACK!!!!
True love
Shalt never die!!!

Spanish version with some french words in it ();
Juliet Omnipotente, te uno del considerando Shakespherian. je suis tu totalidad inamorato, Dans le roi tu de tu razón sublime, como tis, tú eres el único que tengo seno. santuario mío !!!!

(English translated- )
Omnipotent Juliet
Thee one of Shakespherian recital
Je suis thy wholly inamorato
Dans le roi of thy sublime reason,

As tis
Thou art mine only *****.
Mine sanctum!!!

French words in both translations are these+

Je suis - means I am
Dans le- means in the
Roi- means king

Translated from french to engish..

Sorry used french and Spanish and old English here.. Strange I am today lol

Inmensa caja de cristal, me he de sentar a tu costado con devoción, a escribirte poemas en las rocas.
Las mismas que se moldean a tu antojo.
Te he de acariciar la sal que porta tu aroma, y besar cada gaviota que vuela en tus tierras.
Recorro tu cuerpo, hipnotizado por los colores, la serenidad y la fuerza que posee tu himno.
Toma mi alma, vuélvela azul. Permíteme ser el que escriba tu llanto en las noches, y las poesías en el día.

do not tell me that my sickness is fake
because I know all too well
how it feels to be
bound in chains only I can feel
with a terror only I can sense
vines around my throat
muffling my cries
and gasping for breath with plenty of air around

life will get better
then worse
then better again
because life is not about
consistency
it will change
it will hurt
but it will be beautiful
and broken
and incredible
and horrible
and *worth it

The faded flicker of the far off clock was my only source of light. Until I picked up my phone and let my 2 A.M. thoughts run rampant. They made my fingers race across the screen. Made them play tag. They swiped and pinched until finally there you were. At 2 A.M. you were in my hands again. You're smile was as wide as ever and your eyes held the same glitter like they did when you used to talk to me. And You spoke about me even more. People would often come up to me and say that my name was all that would slip off your tongue. And I remembered that snake. The first time it brushed against my lower lip wanting access like a lion knowing that there was more to life than it's own cage. But to everyone, you spoke of me like I was the one who made the sun rise, who put the stars in the sky, who made the wind blow, and who made your world as you knew it turn.
My 2 A.M. thoughts made my fingers dance again. And another you appeared before me. All dressed up. Like we were married. But far from it. We sat like we had to save space on the Mayflower. I was in your lap and your arms were around my fragile frame. And I knew I would never love someone as much as I loved you that night. And my 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the messages. Where are little "I love you more" fights were held and our futures were voiced. Remember that?
I was only a few months older than you. And I remember saying that I had to wait longer for my soulmate to come to me. And there you were again. In my head talking to me when we were bestfriends. While tapping on the plastic on the screen, the fingers fought for their right to voice the will of my 2 A.M. thoughts.
And I wrote about how I met you so far, way back when. I wrote about the dances we went to, the dates we laughed about. And then ultimately the 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the deepest places I never wanted to let set free again.
And they scrambled on the keyboard of the phone! CAPS LOCKs, sorrys, pleads, and begs. Explanation after explanation and so many what if's. And I read it and read it. And only now did I realize that I was choking on the tears that you left me with. And I continued with the rant, and blamed you for what happened and blamed you for the causes. And then I stopped. And wept into the cold tear stained pillow, screaming into it like it was my last shot at everything I could ever have been. And once I felt numb enough to pretend that it wouldn't bother me anymore I let the small sobs escape my quivering lips and I destroyed the barrage of words that was my 2 A.M. thoughts. And instead willed my hands to let the fingers dance once more as I typed:

You're coming back, right?

_____

You're coming back right (sent 2:35 A.M.)
  (read 2:36 A.M.)

. . .

And the dots they came.
And I waited.
But inevitably,
Just like you,
They left me with the question:
You're coming back, right?

A number of years ago when I was learning to drive
My dad would make me drive down to Ionia Michigan
because it could **** a full hour of driving practice
And because it was some other place to go.

Just recently I had to go back there and pay off a speeding ticket.
There are worse things than paying off a speeding ticket.

This town has gotten tired.
I walk by the city hall and eye the crumbling brick beside the road
and I think they must not be trying very hard to attract any visitors here.
But there I was-
suddenly insulted.

The city lights have gone out decades ago but they never died. They left their posts- abandoned. Now all that remains are the the dim and flickering street lamps that stand on sidewalks and bide their time watching or waiting for the final walls to crumble.

The city has a sleepy aura that one would feel seeing somebody's 70's childhood toy, like a jack in the box or a colorful plastic record player left outside. A lost innocence, and the smell of marijuana seeping from every upstairs window downtown or of a girl once beautiful who now waits alone and used to take off her clothes and reveal her tongue and love the universe as it appeared to love her.

I walk inside another second hand store and see nobody attending the counter. Stiff- funereal clothes and grey dresses. There is one rack of men's clothing, I accidentally take a whiff of the stale dusty air and it suddenly holds me from touching them. I quietly stare at my sobering realization that I am in the cities ashtray. They sell here what they can't burn but probably should, and every ten shirts in a row indicates one more rock in a row at one of the many churches of necessity and I decide to get out.
This place gives me the creeps.