This lightning show has me thinking about that night again.
Without the self doubting guilt,
possibly for the first time.
Is it the combination of school and spring phermones?
The smell of the impending storms?
Or are you in my thoughts because I'm in yours.
The mixed tape spins again
turning silent keys.
The misfire of a cog
going nowhere forever.
Forever letting you go,
I've waited for no one.
Your voice and silhouette saved in the corners of me.
So magnanimous in my youth,
how I miss her again.

Love and passion are often confused–
I began with something real.
Love and passion don’t walk side by side, love
tears down walls with a hurricane of butterfly wings

and passion walks easily through the rubble.
I don’t believe in the thrill of the chase, the
opposites attract, or the love that's formed
between two people lost together at sea. Fake.

I’ve experienced 100 exciting-stressful things
but I’ve only experienced 1 you. And they have not
felt the same. The night we met in front of canes
I had lied to my father, and my mother, to see you.

I hated the thrill of the lie, driving with you high,
off devices I couldn't name, I hated that.
But we kept going and chatting, I ignored a stop sign
Sure that I would get pulled over, knuckles red-white,

But you spoke sweetly, said it was ok, I think we knew
that I was colorblind to red when it came to you, and you
smiled when I called with my friends, and you looked so pretty
in the streetlights, and we talked like it was easy. I loved that.

One fish asks another, How’s the water today? The second replies,
What is love? It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense to you—
it makes sense to me, like the way I needed you
before I even knew your name. and honestly

It feels like I met you twice, on the luckiest day of the year, and
the luckiest day of my life, and again in a Kalhert parking lot.
Disappointedly sober, so we crawled into each other unprotected,
And shared songs like pieces of ourselves.  I met you there.

To have learned love from you, I am eternally grateful
that I will never have to feel love turn to hate, or feel
the sting of betrayal, because we weren’t perfect together
but you were perfect with me, and you handled my heart gently

I Think how wonderful it is that I have loved you, because you have
given me love in the buildings and in the trees, and countless things
that bring me back to the thought of you, and I will love to take my walks
and hear your smile, in the way the wind blows through the reeds, of our preservation

I am bored. There’s nothing interesting to watch. I only hear in the phone are celebrity gossips, politicians’ unkept promises, accidents, and the stagnant decay of the nation. When I am scrolling through games that **** the time, nothing beats up the vacant expression plastered to my face. When I finish the quest–then there’s another. Always another. If you want the easy way, it costs real money. The tech companies want only my money and attention, draining my life into endless torture. It’s a rat race, but the race is the torture and pain I have to begin with since the day I am born. I always see on YouTube how the corporation workers chained up to their desks, slaves to their bosses’ whims. I wasn’t born in a billionaire’s penthouse nor an old-money family. I am birthed by my mother in a place where things should be competed. As my youth flew into this century, colors faded—only black, white, and blue lived and sometimes hiding in the shadows of once was. The world is a monotonous hell, where the devils thrive and everything is bought with pain.

I loved you the first time
I loved you the last time
Mon amour, your eyes, like a peacock feather kissed by the sun, glancing between emerald and sapphire, as if nature blessed your eyes with petrichor and the scent of endless blue.

Hair like wheat fields, a lion's mane swirled with amber and gold.
Curls soft and elegant
Unadorned but intricate

You stood with peau beige skin
Warm but yet so cold and unsure
It glimmers in the sun, ivory white
Unbleached, untouched.

You werent just perfect, your heart was as kind as the first rain after a drought, gentle, soaking into the cracks.
Love soft, kind, Agape and selfless.
All the things you do, the ways you move, they send me straight to heaven.

Young plants laugh—
carefree in the wind,
smiling at the sun,
whispering, “Time waits for us.”

They sway,
but do not root.
They stretch upward
without drawing deep.
Still they hum, “Time is a friend.”

Unaware—
of the soil's silent pleading,
the richness beneath,
the mercy in the earth.
They hope for a tomorrow
not promised.

Wisdom calls—
“Serve Me in the days of your youth.”
But they chant back,
loud in their pride,
“We are the pulse of this age!”

The Master stands,
hands open,
eyes full of knowing:
Take position.
Take your place.

And I,
a quiet observer,
a hopeful heart,
wonder—
Will they hear Him in time?

We might've said 'I love you' to fast.
5 days in, including our past,
But you and me are gonna last.

Yeah you ghosted me 3 times,
but you always came back around.
The kind of love that shivers spines.
Yet you don't ever make me feel down.

I feel so safe with you here,
I'll forever love you my dear,
And in my future i see you clear.

You make me want to change.
I know that I will for you.
Already planning our wedding at this age.
We're gonna pull through.

Those multitudel inglorious days,
With eager tounge and fearless youth.
Indignant in our stubborn ways,
We fought the system nail and tooth.

Unreliance on mechanical wears,
Or self compliance bitter taught.
We sought the path that wanted wear,
A princely sum yet still we bought.

Sheer confidence in ones esteem,
But pride will always take a fall.
Those days rush by me like a stream,
Too fast to catch or yet recall.

Immortal reason warmed our bones,
We chased the sun and caught its rays.
Auspicious notions now outgrown,
Of early bird inglorious days.

Oh Darling, Oh Daisy
As pretty as a pink peony,
Yet, your petals are wilting, dear,
Stems a little frail, wracked.

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
As sharp as a red rosy,
Yet, don’t they see, dearest,
Thorns tracing those fragile strands?

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
As sweet as a light *****,
Yet, don’t they see, dear?
Tears slipping, draping a silk on your chest.

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
As clever as late Nancy,
Yet, is your nectar still
Sweet as hot honey

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
Ask of the flies, just once, dear,
Do they taste the bright red
Of copper candy?

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
As graceful as old lacy
Do you dance, dear,
To the screams that hum a melody?

Oh Daisy, Oh Daisy
As naive as a little daisy,
Are you certain what awaits you?
Dear Daisy.