I close my eyes and lay my ear against your chest to hear the rapid, but somehow still steady beat of your heart and the sound of the blood rushing through your veins has always made me think of sun rises, of blindingly white light and pink hues in the skies. Hearing the blood course through your body reminds me of sunrises, of another beautiful day, another day to be grateful, like somehow your existence has a correlation with the heavens and maybe you're not even aware of it. Like every battle drum song echoing in your chest signifies another beautiful day awakening in a life that could be ours. And when I finally lift my head from your chest and I see your eyes looking heavy because they carry the weight of every sunset that you've sworn wouldn't be washed out by the vibrant crimson of the insides of your wrists. Like every time you blink you hold the power of every moon phase in that one simple movement, and isnt it funny how that one simple movement is so powerful, do you even realize how powerful you are even in your simplicity? But then again Mother Nature never stops to admire herself, but then again do we ever give her the chance? We always twist the beauty she gives us into acts against our humanity, we always turn the failing of our ozone layer into a crime instead of an act of loneliness. Mother Nature wants to show us all the warmth she has to offer, Mother Nature wants to shower us in the warmth that our kind has always been lacking. We always turn the rare colors of the sea into an act of violence, when all the waves wanted to do was show us how beautiful they are when they try to cleanse something so impure. They never meant to harm us, but my dear take a leaf from their book and do not ever forget, do not ever apologize for being so beautiful while still remaining so powerful.

We're sitting on the beach, our love does not grow dim,
Like the sunset on the skyline, pretty but faint and grim.
We're like it's brighter rays, not the setting part at all,
We're lingering in this summer, until we come to Fall.

my first day here
i couldn't wait to get out

but with every changing sunset
there is a hope i never have to leave

No, I don't love her in the conventional sense.

I love her as an artist.

I love her with the profound human greatness of hope and all the beautiful qualities of humanity I find redeemed within the motions of her lips when she sings. I love her by the ocean, by city streets, drunk under stars, with no context. Just as every place is contaminated with memory, every place is filled with possibilities of her presence. I love her with the experience of an old soul and with the passion of youth. There is no reason behind it, yet it is full of purpose. I love her mouth, not because I want to kiss it, but because it is a mouth that embodies all the things that speak violently. She is a piece of the universe with irrevocable flaws that I came to understand and unspeakable beauty that I came to admire. I love her in my sketch book, I love the flicker of emotion in eyes, I love her on painted window panes and in the darkness of night.

I love her for the sake of loving her. I don't love with expectation of my affection to be returned. And from the realization of loving her, I have come to this conclusion;

I love her purely, unconditionally, and truthfully.

The light of the sunset
Passed through the window
Filtering through the glass music box
That you bought for me
Because it played my favorite song
And struck me
In my eyes
For a moment
I was blinded
But then I remembered
That so was love
And decided to try desperately blinking the sunlight away.

It reminded me too much of you
And how I never wanted to see you again.

such a beautiful world
that I am able to see
the blue sky
it reminds me of the sea

as the sun sets
colors form
clouds shape
it's so interesting to me

I love my life.

I followed you over arbitrary timbers
Crossing rushing torrents
For intense love
Secret nights
And permanent kisses
Riotous sunset smothered mountains
In fields of wrought iron autumn
Meandering monument moss covered lichens
And beautifully broken stones
Our names are carved in promise
Clasped hands spun gold
Close to you is moments of peace
Heartbeats unforgotten
Moments
Every breath adored
Past a worn marker of this
World so dark until resurrection
Dark dispersed
By the only light I know
Blue orbs extinguished constellations
Tell me your secrets
They are our secrets
Your stories
Are our stories

i want to smear the sunset with something other than orange light --
maybe i'll paint it with the color of your eyes.

What is beauty?
An ideal stuffed down our throats,
That makes us scrutinise reflections
To trace every single flaw and imperfection in our very being?
I've long since stopped searching for beauty in the mirror,
It was a loosing battle, no mater what empty compliments were spat my way.
Instead I've come to think of beauty as freedom,
As liberation from the shackled thoughts of society,
And it's come to mean so much.... more.
Beauty isn't in the angular curves of malnourished models,
The photoshopped perfection of tabloid queens.
No.
Beauty is in muted sunsets,
Colours thrown up as homage to a whispered day,
Cradles by clouds and wisps of white.
Beauty is in the moments that make you itch for a pen,
A brush, a lens: anything to preserve the moment
In perfect clarity so that you can feel again the breath thieving awe.  
Beauty is in woven fingers and passionate touches,
Love shouted through the twitch of a mouth and the softening of eyes.
Beauty is caught in the second you stop, look up
And dig your nails into a world that spins too quickly,
Seizing every day that flies your way.