i always like to think about sailboats
red, blue, green
triangles on the horizon
my favorite shape

and i don't know who i am anymore
when i look at you...
then i trace the maps on your hands
and i remember

autumn days
brisk and just warm enough
kicking through leaves
thinking of you....

how we're all just human in the end,
how quickly life can change,
and how sometimes
*love does win

There is something to be learnt from
the trees that let go
Of autumn leaves so silently: no grudges, no scorn
It is nature's way of telling
Parting is the price we all have to pay for love.

There is something to be learnt from
The leaves that hit the ground
After being held so high
It Is nature's way of telling us
It has never been about the fall
But how gracefully we do it

There is something to be learnt from
The empty sky at twilight
How it bleeds every time the sun leaves
Yet it tries to find solace in those thousand little suns
There is always something to be grateful about.

I wonder if my thoughts are blocked from over thinking.
Maybe my urge to write is scarcely needed,
If I stopped writing would anyone notice?
Shall I jot my thoughts in a journal safely hiding my moments?
Self expression through words means no expression at all,
When the words no longer flow and keen fingertips lock.

If you were to die,
Before you truly had lived,
Had you lived at all?

I tried.
I tried to keep away from words.
But every now and then I find myself stealing (reading).  

Yesterday, I read:
                      The heart will find a way to reach what it loves,
                              however hard the mind tries to hinder.

Then I tried to keep away from you, too.

But every now and then I find myself stealing.

Alas! the heart found that ****** way.

Why do I lay awake,
when my eyes beg to close,
and my limbs ache for rest?

Why do I drink to the bottom of the bottle,
when my head is spinning,
and my mouth is numb?

Why do I bleed,
when my wrist is screaming,
and my sheets are already stained red?

Why do I lay awake,
when I spent the entire day,
looking forward to the thought of sleep?

The horizon
A fog dusted oblivion
And you
All alone

Treasures lost our souls left to cry,
Golden tears fall down the sigh.
The feelings sway with the wind.
Blown away to return not again.
The fluttering lashes of my eye,
Turn from the emerald ashes that fly.
Born up to the clouds of yesterdays dreams,
The trampled petals that've withered and died.
Harmony fades as my shallow breath slows.
In the end no one knows!

© Crystal Erickson 4/15/08

Cloudy skies
Translucent souls
Cloudy minds
Opaque walls

The muse died
I put a stake through her heart
Put her in the ground

She will no longer
**** away my sleep
Trade my time for trinkets of rhyme

I left her
In an unmarked grave
So soon to be forgotten

She will no longer
Rise at first moon
To haunt my memories

Like a simple twist of fate
She looked astonished
The first blow upon the stake

I dust off my hands
And lay my shovel down
I'm going home

I will lay down
And go back to sleep
all within my ease

But before I do
I'll throw another poem
Upon the towering stack