i wish to be as
beautiful as the
moon

it's light a beacon
a pale silhouette
magical

i wish to be as
beautiful as the
moon

for the moon cares not
for admirers or
fame

it glimmers eternally
in the dark
midnight

The brand of our skies lingers — soft kisses
drifting through the air, and I seem to lose every word
except for one whisper: “I love you.” As our love roars
like an anthem beneath a midnight sun, where my tears
have soaked the tired pillow of a heart that rests only
on the thought of you.

Each rhythm of speech stumbles into another pause
before a kiss, and like the taste of a wish granted, I find
my voice again, always to speak of you in reverent tones,
for you stand atop the mountain that houses my heart.

Your eyes; perhaps they’ve forgotten the worth of time.
There’s a watch not on your wrist, but bound to your leg,
always stepping over it.

And while the sun maps out your days, the moon is a pin
dropped at the final stop. Tomorrow isn’t promised —
no more than a compliment from a stranger. And just like
that stranger, it stays nameless until you dare ask its name
by dusk. Where the Sun Whispers, and the Moon Waits.

there’s a reason
i haven’t kept
my photos of her
within reach.
yet, i watch myself
get torn apart
on the pixelated screen
of dreams long lost.

i’m on my knees
begging my brain
to stop doing this to me.

she's not coming back.

love should know better,
than to dress itself in cruelty.

i don’t know his last name.
or anything, really.
we both whispered,
don’t be a serial killer,
don’t be a lunatic.
it was sort of beautiful.
strangely poetic.
my hair still smells like him,
and he’s given me a gift,
a quiet relief:
she’s no longer
the last person i kissed.

''I call at night,
So we wouldn’t fight.
Then you’re jumping through the next,
Without knowing how I felt.

Feeling overwhelmed,
But you couldn’t melt.
Slamming doors, and champagne all over the floor...
It’s all for the best, they say,
But I didn’t want to end it this way.

We made a vow, but now,
All we have are broken hearts, with no future to share,
And now I’m wildly aware.

If I’m crying, you will be made of raindrops,
Because you disappear every time it flops.

First I was your “Saturn,” the next you say “there is no return.”
Guess I just tasted the glass you poured,
It’s like I got stabbed with a sword,

Poisoned me, cursed me, and left me hoping for things to change,
Like a child who’s hoping for the season to change.

I call in the morning,
So we would stop sobbing,
Because you know how I feel,
And I do want to be driving without a wheel.''

the beauty, the resolute stillness of night
and the absence of a day's wreckage, too
is no consolation for that greater hollow
which yet darkens my countenance
and voids my soul

but in the aches of time, all shall emerge complete
if unfilled then at least whole —
holy, even — under better eyes than mine
more open eyes than mine, heavy under insomnia

so, in passing with the moon,
that complete and empty dawn will arrive by a close of the eyes, a gentle descent to sleep

which is why it cannot come so easily,
lest the waking day illume my solitude

I am the midnight sun
I am always on the run
Chasing down the break of day

I am the midnight sun
I am the only one
Who can show you the way

I am the midnight sun
I am the fire that’s never done
I am the only one

The only one to burn so bright
The only one who can light the night
I am the midnight sun

I am the midnight sun
Only there for anyone
Only there to see you run

I am the midnight sun
Burning bright for anyone
Anyone who needs to run

A moment for the moon
half-dipped in midnight
A soft sigh escapes
embellished with stars
as it crawls back
into your atmosphere
holding in its center
a small whisper of
an outstretched hand

sometimes i wake
from a fever-dream
spent with a mystery being –
evaporating too quickly
to savour
leftover feelings,
and hidden benefits
of a midnight affair
with someone
that doesn't exist.

when the day
is half gone,
i'm still lovesick,
incapable of
stopping my mind
from hoping
there’s a button somewhere
to hit re-wind.

some nights,
i cry
so quietly
that it feels
like my
soul
is the one
that is doing all
the crying
for me.