Give me an opportunity,
To walk with responsibility
And you.

my love for
her
is strictly
platonic,
because what else
could it be?

I sit on her
couch
and smile at every
single
word she says.
Her soft hand
touches
my knee, exposed
by my shorts,
as she laughs.
Out of nowhere she states,
“I like the
idea
of heaven, but
only
if there’s not a
hell.”
I realize then what
triggered
that statement.
we were talking about religion,
ironic to me is just that,
we were talking about religion
while I worship the
ground
she walks on.

My love for
her
is strictly
platonic,
I worship her,
but only as a
friend.

people crave touches,

and i thought they were absolutely psychotic

until i met you.

suddenly, i understand,

but still not really

because the only touch i want from you

isn't a kiss or a caress.

it's the sting of your hand on top of mine

sitting on a pile of worn playing cards

(two jacks, to be exact)

making a resounding smack against the table

that startles the elderly couple next to us

and your firm, determined grip

as you swear bitterly under your breath

to wrestle those jacks away from me

however long it takes you.

--glacier

In loving you I found a philosophy of the human compassionate heart,
Beautiful in her inter-dimensional quest to sit next to me that day,
Or ask me some theoretical question I already had an answer to,

In loving you
It's you who must deliver my eulogy.

Amongst all of the satellites in the sky above me,
my beloved,
you are by far the Sun,
and,certainly I'm the Moon,
constantly longing for you,
running after you,
thoroughly
each night by night
aware that you'll be doing the same,
aware we won't actually ever meet.

Everyone has a a billowing pillow that's larger than their troubles sitting at the bottom of their cliff.

It's comforting, it's warm, and suffocating as you land on such sweet bliss.

The pillow envelops you, compacting you in a small, tight cocoon.

The pressure forces you to to gulp in air and squeeze your eyes shut tight.

"Everything will be fine," they whisper. "No need to fright."

And suddenly, as you're wrapped up in a pillow, everything seems to be all right.

I don't want to lose you
But I fear I would
If I told you the truth
About how I feel
Oh, where do I start?
Would you stop?
When you stare at me with curiosity
My confidence quivers
Let me speak my mind
And my heart too
Let me let you know
Just how much I love you
You have no idea
You fail to understand
The depths of my feelings
The emotions I swim in every day
You're unaware of what you mean to me
And I fear when I let you know
I will lose you
Because somewhere along
I know the feeling isn't mutual
But because I love you so much
my darling friend
I will muster the courage
To break the silence, risk an end
But I will not bend
To the hands of fear
If fate so desires that you push me away
So be it, but know, you'll always be dear
And now, hush now
Don't you say a word, let me finish
You need to know this
Let me begin, let me finish
Tell me, once I'm done...
Can't we just be friends
Without the romance of romantic love?
For friendship is just as beautiful
and there is a certain romance about pure love
of friendship, nothing more, nothing less
So why can't we be <strikethrough>just</strikethrough> friends?

One sees the moon, shedding a tear they must,
Another sees her and gets blind in lust.

We met on the axis of two different parallels
a paradox too taboo to be whispered
gone in a blink of an eye
and yet exist in a sea of desperation

You were gone in the next exhale
and I too follow suit
unacknowlegding of the fact
that we both wear the same existance

Do you remember that story?
how prometheus got chained,
his liver pecked every dawn
because he showed kindness?

We both atone for sins not of our own
but would glady drown in our exile
because it was better than the stale pit
those people call life

This were the worlds we condemned
ourself to be with
two people, who knows
but is bound by our vow to be blind

Winter in my home was always beautiful
how pristine the snow is
until you dig up the corpse
under our fingernails

Just like the summer in your home
where the plants are growing
from the river of blood
that run beneath

You are soot stained, cold eyes
but your hands are warm

They were always warm,
and i wonder if it was because
of the blood that stained your hands

You use your spine as a spear
I use my ribcage as a shield
those tear tracks have died
and there is both spite in our eyes

We never touched, except for that first time
never shared anything except understanding
i do not know your story,
nor do you know mine

but it was more than enough

We both met at the axis of a parallel
created out of the resonance
of the guilt and the war and
everything in between
and we met with a touch of kindness