For the first time ever,
I want to rush the summer along...
it'll close the gap
between the times I get to see you.
It will bring us closer to spending
nine unadulterated months together.
And sure, we'll have classes to deal with,
and roommates to navigate,
but we'll have each other.
Not a day will pass
that we don't see each other.
The hours we are in class
will seem like mere seconds
compared to the long weeks we've spent apart
so far this year.
And yet the cycle with start again.
Having spent so many days together,
the weeks apart in the summer will drag on.
No longer do I pine for lazy summer days.
I only pine for you.

You lied.
You said you were faithful.
True only to me.
And you lied.
I don't care if you did it
to spare my feelings or
make me happy.
In that moment, you decided
that my trust was worthless.
You deemed me unworthy
of the truth.
So, please, don't cover one lie
with another.
Don't tell me how much I mean to you,
or how sorry you are.
You made your verdict long ago.
Do you really care for me at all?
Then why did you lie?
All I asked of you was total loyalty
and complete honesty,
and you obviously didn't care enough
to honor that.
So why should I believe that you love me?
Why am I even still here?
Everything is screaming at me
to leave you behind.
Perhaps, I've stayed because, unlike you,
when I make a promise to someone I love,
I keep it.
And I promised not to leave you.
No matter how much I want to right now,
I can't.
You've caught me in a web of lies
from which I can't untangle.
God alone can help us now.

"You're too young to know about things of this sort.
"You need to, in such a storm, find a safe port.
"You need to listen, child," the wise old man said.
And in part, he was right; that fills me with dread.
Babylon lied; she set us up.
She offered a sweet-tasting, poisonous cup.
I stood in her way, the spotlight I stole,
And she couldn't cut deep, so she swallowed me whole.
I so want to hate her; it fills me with spite.
The old man saw through her. The old man was right.
Then I stop for a moment and marvel at you,
And wonder that somehow you love me too.
You don't wish on a star and expect a reply,
But that's what you've promised till the day I die.
And I laugh to myself. How ironic it seems
That Babylon's trap answered all of my dreams.
If I hadn't trusted that treacherous snake,
Our souls would have passed, cheating out fate.
So I laugh at the old man, and say to him, "Child -
"My body is young. My soul? She is wild.
"She's lived many lifetimes, she's far from a babe.
"And of the same stardust our two souls are made.
"Someday you will understand." My face is aglow,
For my future is set, my path I well know.
It's always been you since the stars were newborn.
Our souls are ancient, though our faces unworn.
So I thank Babylon for attempting a slaughter,
And I kiss the old man's face. I'm his wayward daughter.
I've made many mistakes, but this still is true:
I count them all blessings. They all gave me you.

People are nature's biggest curiosity.
Naturally, I observe them every chance I get.
The last time I was here, it was no different.
My fascination rested with the girl to my left.
She was obsessed with the guitarist,
claiming that he was "amazing" and "the man of her dreams."
She fantasized about dating him.
She wondered what it would be like to know that she inspired the songs
or to meet him backstage for a familiar kiss,
rather than an awkward handshake.
I smirked at her musings wryly,
long since having given up any notions of romance,
let alone with a shining star.
How funny the tricks fate plays on us.
As I watch you sing on stage, the spotlight bright,
and listen to words meant only for me,
and await that backstage kiss,
I can't help but glance at the girl to my left.
She's not as starstruck as I remember;
She doesn't know everything about you.
She doesn't even know your name.
I wonder why.
You're the brightest star I know.
Everyone should love you and know your name.
A scoff brings me back to reality; I look to my right.
I know that sneer. I wore it once myself.
To this girl, I'm just another girl to her left,
but I can't help my spreading grin.
Perhaps I am the girl to the left,
but you love me, and so my world's all right.

Philosophy will tell you that belief doesn’t equal truth.

That’s why belief in a religion doesn’t make its precepts true.

Knowing that, I guess I should have known better,

But I held to the time we agreed that my belief and faith made my religion real.

“Her god is real because she believes.”

“My god loves me because I love him.”

We smiled, and for a split second we both saw God,

But you saw YHWH, and I saw you.

Maybe I should have told you that.

Maybe I should have told me that.

Instead, I spoke to you in reverence, like a prayer,

And took your words as gospel.

Every time I touched you was a burnt offering in your name.

My belief and love was pure and true, but it didn’t change anything.

It didn’t make your love real.

I know that now; I’ve seen the proof.

I think I knew it all along.

So, I’ll return to my religion,

The god you saw will comfort me and love me.

He’ll never leave my side, so long as I believe it’s true.

I’ve not found anyone to disprove him yet.

Still, words on a page don’t compare to warm arms

Anymore than cheerful texts replace a smile.

I’ll make do.

Sometimes, though, a glimmer of hope slips through.

Sometimes, I wish my god was you.

The devil's desire is to lure you from God
with his terrible tricks and his lies,
just like circumstance pulls me away
from the Heaven I see in your eyes.
Deceit filled my head; "He's a rebel,"
they said. "He's a monster, and worse yet,
a devil."
Yes, you don't fit the norm,
but I feel safe and warm
when your arms hold me tight.
The arms they warned would steal me at night.
And steal me they did on an evening so wild.
They cried out to you, "She's only a child."
They failed to see the truth of the matter,
continuing on with their idle chatter.
For in truth what you'd takes was rightfully yours.
I wasn't a captive locked behind iron doors.
I'd given myself to you with no hesitation,
just as you had offered yourself up with no reservation.
And you are no demon.
No, you are an angel.
In your eyes I've seen
the land of the faithful.
All their attempts at my evangelization
have only resulted in their own demonization.
I flee from them into the night,
where your arms hold me close and tight.
Their words are like chaff; the wind blows them away.
I no longer listen to the things that they say.
I will walk into the Promised Land,
but in my own way, we two hand in hand.

Like one of Artemis' arrows, my direction was sure.
I was my own guide for so long; I made my own path.
Then, like the shock that Prometheus' fire must have been,
You came.
My axis shifted.
Did Atlas shrug? Who knows?
All I know is that I don't know my own path anymore.
Not without you.
Earth's gravity has certainly lost its hold on me.
I feel like I'm flying ever closer.
Closer to this new sun,
This...Apollo that I'm orbiting.
You.
Are my strange new feelings causing me to fear?
Fear that if you're my new, alluring sun,
I'm doomed to die like Icarus.
Coming too close to you, melting, falling...
Athena would laugh at my foolish faintheartedness.
If Hades himself came, with Cerberus in tow,
To take my soul to the Underworld,
I know he'd have to go through you.
The tale of the man who loved a woman so much
That he fought off the King of the Underworld,
Why, it would be passed on for generations.
Surely, over time, the facts would be altered,
The names and places changed.
We'd have our own mythology.
The one thing they could never change,
No matter how they tried,
Is the strength of our love.
Our love is no myth.
No.
Our love is gospel.

God, I miss you.
I didn't realize that I'd experience
physical pain
at being apart from you.
Who decided this?
Who decided that I'd spend the next four years
only seeing you 75% of the time
when you occupy 100% of my heart?
It's ridiculous.
Plain and simple.
I should be at your side.
It wouldn't matter what we were doing.
We should be sharing every experience,
every emotion.
Instead, we're relegated to sending
a series of 1's and 0's
that conjure an inflectionless concoction of words
that feel so vapid without a voice behind them.
And even the calls don't do you justice.
It's infuriating being unable to touch you.
To see your lips pressed against a lens
instead of feeling them pressed against mine.
The inability to reach out and touch your hand.
I'd give anything to always be by your side.
But I'm not.
God, I miss you.