My love for you fills the expanse of these mountains
Through the valleys to
The bottom of their rivers to
The highest peaks brushing the skies and
Splitting through clouds to
Flooding every stream and
Passing through the undergrowth to
Nurture the trees and
Creating forests and
Filling the air Intoxicatingly and powerful to
Carving paths that will always
Lead me back to you.

I'd trade every monetary aspiration for the certainty I have and will spend every moment possible loving those I cannot live without
In the end everything will remain here, but the love and spirit of longing for those who we wish to hold, is forever.
The fear of love lost is stronger than the fear of other's perception of who I could have been
Take everything
And I will still be left with the air in my lungs that keeps me alive for another day
Only to feel the ache in my chest from living to love you.

Just tell me one thing
When you decided to hurt me did you still love me?
And if you didn't, when you finally figured that out why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?
Did the foundation of trust implode along with our relationship?
If there couldn't be love couldn't there still be respect?
Well I know there couldn't be love
But could there have been less disdain?
And since there was no longer trust,
Couldn't you at least assume most of the blame?

I miss the fervor with which I used to write
I miss the way words would dance in my mind until the perfect combination fell at my feet
I miss knowing more than a few good cliches and metaphors
I miss the desperation I had to explain every feeling, to describe every moment, to relish in something for longer than I experienced it because memory fades and I need the possibly exaggerated details to grasp onto
I miss not feeling brain fatigue after writing two lines or reading a single chapter
I miss the overwhelming desire to see my ideas come to life and become something other than a vision that will haunt me before I go to sleep and become lost in nightmares and lost hopes and reminders before I jump off the cliff jolting me awake just to be surrounded by complete darkness when I open my eyes just like the true ending to the fall I was just shy of landing

Mouths gape
Dragging nails
Skin pulled
My hands gripped over their thighs
Skins melds around my hands
Sweet pungent smell becomes bitter the longer it sits on their tongue
Tasting more as I bite into their lip
Chests rise and fall
Tongue outreaching
Grasp for warmth
Their eyes begin to close
Steam waning
Failing to rise

Once, he told me throw the egg at the tree.
He pointed, “There,” and threw one himself.
The egg weighed in my hand. Him waiting for me.
I threw. Trust to him and fear off its shelf.

Golden by birthright, his heart and his soul.
He bloomed without boundaries; carefree perfection.
He loved like a mother as if was his role.
He hand built his world; to him a small action.

Dreamt of him last night , it’s been a while
Robins blue eggshell: color of his eyes
They captured his mind and carelessness; fragile
Forgot to count the cracks, weakened though wise.

I should’ve grasped while others took their piece.
His hair without color signaled withdrawal.
I never made promises; free for release.
But, I'd told him “Don’t worry I won't let you fall.”

I picture the tree to which the eggs were thrown.
Where he’d thrown his trust back and now hung alone.

Sometimes you’re mentally just falling, and you need someone to hold onto you before you hit the ground.