My lover volunteers to count the amount of stairs on each staircase along campus.
Right, left, right, left, right, right-left, right. There we go.
I count the moles along her arms, like a canvas (they are not freckles.)

My lover redefines the status quo,
Chopped hair that repurposes the definition of what it means to be true to yourself
Hues of blue and pink
And green.

It’s difficult to write something that means so much to you when you are infatuated with your own life.
Obsessed, besotted, and bewitched
By a colour that highlights the boring crevasses of each day,
Delaying and obstructing our undeniable decay.

She loves cats,
Not to solidify our cat-like selfishness,
But as a reminder to remain for all of our nine lives.

Many would call me crazy,
Counting stairs and the amount of times the oven beeps to reassure myself I am not entering a deranged state of mind.
But she counts the stairs
So I can step comfortably through each day.

My lover.

In February,
Orion’s belt burns
To the Northeast.
And for a brief moment,
We face the same direction
From two thousand kilometres.

Three seconds.

The walk on the tightrope,
Doesn’t seem too different
From that of the hard, wooden floor beneath my feet.

My eyes lock with all
Three speckles in the sky,
Burning flames of passion,
Yet cars still flow by.

So swiftly and so loud,
In the quiet of the night.
The arrow in the sky,
Shining so, so, so  bright.

Three dots in the sky,
Telling me to stay.

If love was the food and water of the soul,
I am Tantalus.
This unfamiliar feeling
Is just beyond my reach.
And I wonder
How exactly I offended these gods?

Goddess of love and kindness,
Abstain me
From focusing on the pleating waves,
Instead of the beauty of the sun,
And it’s constant comfort.

Instinctually, I paint a perfect image.
With blossoming water etching the high tides,
And the bright star in the reflection above.

But you can still have sun
In the absence of waves,
And the gods somehow forgive me of my foolishness.

I grasp for the water.
It doesn’t reach my neck,
But slips into the back of my throat.

I breathe in Green.

Green eyes dance across the bay,
A forgiving light reaches out.
Frolicing reflections on the black bay floor,
Telling me to go.

A tranquil forest stares back.
Dull brown of the trees like your hair
Falling flat on your face while you sleep.

Green is a word I can’t remember.
Always on the tip of my tongue,
But Green is one moment away from slipping out,
Filling the whole room with words so thick and full of volume,
You have to cut through it to breathe.

Green is the sentence between
The distanced parentheses,
But Green is not an afterthought.

And in every life, you are Green.

A lonely shadow casts upon the green carpet,
Blossoming from nothing but a blowing seed–
vegetative propagation.
Sticks shoot through the bright green straw,
The womb of Mother Earth, doors facing East and West.

Buckets of life sit atop the straw blanket,
Blossoming with new life.
Filling, fueling, feeding–
Over and over and over.
And when we die, we become the food of the blossoming leaves,
And the bright green sheet that covers the Earth’s floor.

Yet nobody stops to appreciate
The beauty of the blossoms.

There sits a lonely table,
On the never ending sheet
Of green.

the yes would still come through fog and rain;
clear as day, the words escape your lips.
your beautiful, glowing lips;
that i wish i could touch once in my lifetime.

the yes would still push through your teeth;
even if it came next week,
even if it didn’t come at all.
you would say yes.

forgive the sinners of their sins, for they did not know what they were doing.
like a saint, you speak to me.
yes, yes, yes, you say.
you want her lips again.

i cannot wait to walk with you.
to grab your hand beside mine,
look at the ocean view.

i want to tell you “i love you”,
through whispered breaths
buried in the sand.

and when we lay for a night of rest,
my breath will follow your shallow pattern.
until our hearts
are two, beating as one.

i've been asked to be
in fancy anthologies,
be in fancy magazines.

to write freely on the page,
fill it with words,
light it up in flames.

after all,
everything i've learned to love,
vanishes in the end.

imagine if i could
glide across life,
like the way figure skaters
glide across the ice?

a triple salchow,
i’ve taken flight.
my biggest dreams,
those fearful nights.

if i could glide,
the wind in my face.
how easy would it be,
to make a mistake?

and ruin the whole program.

why is it,
that going to sleep at night,
makes me want to stay up all day?

as the sun splashes on my face,
i wake up to a brand new day.

where the sun is harsh and it hurts my eyes,
blinds me,
removes my disguise.

in the day,
i am naked.
in the night,
i am disguised.

one is my freedom,
one is my demise.

A beautiful thing to remember,
Is that what is will become once was,
And what is now once was still is.

Everything must come to an end,
But that doesn’t mean the story is over,
It means you have just found the beginning.

In order to see the true meaning,
You must understand the ending.
And in order to open new doors,
One must become closed.

So while I am surrounded in sorrow,
I shall remember;
What is will become once was,
And what is now once was still is.

And it shall remain forever.

I grip your hand as I cling on for dear life,
Our life has just begun,
But it’s time to wake up.

I cling onto you as I feel your invisible breath on my neck,
I’m trying to get the most of you,
But my breathing is getting heavier.

I finally open my eyes,
Just wishing you were truly there,
Right next to me.

Want to kiss someone.
Afterwards, we could look up at the stars,
Picture anything else but reality.

Realistically,
I am sitting in my bedroom,
Watching others take advantage of my dreams.

I’ve been using my lip chap,
In hopes it would pay off when she and I touch lips,
For the very first time.

I just want someone to kiss,
Someone to look up at the stars,
Picture anything but reality.

At the words on the page,
As my eyelids droop.

I learn
About their adventures,
And their hopes.

I smile
Because it’s the only thing,
Keeping me from engulfing myself
Into the black pitter-patter of the rain.

Your voice is like sweet music to my ears,
But I haven't heard sweet music in a long time.
The way your mouth forms that ‘O’ shape,
Or the way our fingers intertwined.

You’re like a song from my childhood.
You brought me and still bring me joy,
Yet you also come with pain, guilt, and my wicked childhood.
But I still love your sound.

You’re the same as a tune that couldn’t be forgotten.
I still think about you every night,
The way you bring me pain yet oh, so much delight.
And the way I play you on the piano and belt out the lyrics that I had stored inside.

But am I the sweet music to your ears?
Do you think about me as much as the reoccurring thought of your face bursts into my ever so ****** up head?
Am I the childhood song that you cry yourself to sleep to,
Or was I the childhood song you forgot you even had?

All the wishing on eyelashes never worked.
Close your eyes, breathe in, blow it off your hand.
But nothing ever happened,
Because I just wanted you.

I was wishing on a shooting star,
And then you called me.
Eyes closed, fingers crossed.
You watched me light up like a Christmas tree.

I wore a penny in my left shoe to school the next day.
I was wishing for you to do something,
But that day went on like normal, like any other.
Please, I’m slowly diminishing,
And I just need you to speak.

I picked out all of the green M&M’s so that I could just have you.
But when you said you knew,
I was in a million pieces.
Because I just wanted you.

I don’t believe in magic,
I don't believe in love,
All those wishing on shooting stars,
It’ll never be enough.

Because I can’t control emotions,
And I really just wanted you,
To like me the same way I’ve always liked you.
If all the wishing on eyelashes worked.