Why do we always want what we can't have
Why is greed an essential part of the human mind

I can't help but
always seem to want what's not mine to have

I try my hardest to
resist because
it is in my reach

I've been spending countless hours
debating
but always come up with the same answer -

Leave it alone.

"but what if it's meant to be"

For all I know
I could be missing out on the one person who can make me the happiest
Instead
I settle for our friendship

It pains me to stay away
But I know it would hurt even more if I didn't

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.
They keep soaring.
They glide beautifully, slowly.
But with your approach, they reach a frenzy.
I try to stop them.
Put them in a net.
Shove them in a jar.
Throw them out of my eyes.
And have them tumble far.
But they glide beautifully. Slow.
They flutter frantically when you're close.
I shout at them. Scream.
Beg them to be quiet.
Viciously try to suppress their riot.
They won't listen. No matter what I do.
They just keep trying to fly to you.
Then they're still.
For that second.
Then you touch me.
And they dance, sing - go crazy.
They fly our through my eyes and into yours.
So when I finally look up, slowly,
your eyes are glowing.

I will be where I should
When the time comes
If you're  lookin' for me
I'll be behind my gun
No time to care
And no time to fear
If you're looking for me
I'll be there

Cake, the meat of culinary delights;
Icing, the sauce.

Cake, the main entree, the special of the night;
Icing, the decorative garnish.

Without Cake, Icing has no purpose
A clump, a blob, of meaningless goop.

1 spoonful of Icing alone and you're done.
Spread out amongst the firm surface of Cake though,
Icing becomes much more interesting, and much more fun.

I am the Cake.
You are the Icing.
Without me, the base, the entree, the meat
You, the sauce, the garnish and blob, don't matter

You can be the Icing to your own Cake or to another
But without me, you'll do nothing but rot teeth and smother

So, to enjoy you, Icing, to the absolute fullest
I must, first, combine the ingredients, stir and bake
Because it is vital, if one is to appreciate your sweet taste,
To properly prepare my foundation, the meat, your Cake.

- BPW

1909, on top of the dragon.
Marigolds whipping a tepid fug in this small room of stringy daylight.
That place where we fell in love. Where I dropped a hot cup of tea on my pants
And we ate sushi on the beach. I love the beach.

I am not ready for the ice festival or your new boyfriend.
He smells like bad disco and old people.
This piano concerto that I play before bed, before awakening,
I have your black dresser drawer in my bedroom,
It glistens of our days of Jasmine and Roses.

My mind blurs stories of you, her, and the other girl.
Rad violin songs, a friend from Argentina has introduced me to
Mystify me, I cannot hear straight or stand still. I have acquired
A gift for shivering. Still I can feel your talons raking up my spine.
*******! Where? Why? How did you do that thing with your mouth?

I count upwards from you and in my peaking hours of misfortune, I
Never come back down to earth's giant centrality of duel existence.
My gut expands into my chest, my nervous system and anxiety is
All of you, a lot of her, and none of the other girl.
I make half inch black markings on the wall, this curse of feeling and not forgetting
That never goes away.

I try to resist.
I'm not giving in to the temptation
Of going back to you again.

You're standing there
Arms seemingly open
Warm smile on your face.

But I know I can't.
I'll come off as clingy, needy,
Desperate.

So I repeat to myself
In the head,
"You can live without him."

Why am I doing this?
Because I know
You'll take my heart
And throw it forcefully onto the ground,
Making it shatter
Into a thousand pieces
Irreparably broken.