Small talk, playful banter
Is this flirting?

Gentle touches, eye gazing
Is this intimacy?

Quick glances, endless chasing
Is this serious?

Truth is
I don't know

But I catch myself slightly smiling because of you.

Light is more important than the lantern,
The poem more important than the notebook,
And the kiss more important than the lips.
My letters to you
Are greater and more important than both of us.
The are the only documents
Where people will discover
Your beauty
And my madness.

I'm halfway
out of the door, but
please don't
close it
just yet.

She’d been my best friend in high school, marked by her pale skin, cynicism, and lovely smile. She was unique, hard edges softened by square teeth, arranged perfectly behind full lips.
It’s odd to think it’s only been year, now, her hair has been cropped short in the French style, her eyes hide behind enormous polarized aviators. Her navy tank top worn thin, bra straps exposed. Her jeans rolled short, revealing rubber flip-flops that’d been on her feet since high school. It felt strange, like I was seeing a relative I hadn’t seen since I was six. I could see her changes, taking them in as we made awkward conversation, free of the easiness we used to share. Something was off, and continued to pull my mind from the strained conversation. Just as she’s told me her aspirations of being a French major, I see it. The Hard “f” exposing what I was trying so desperately to find, it’s occurrence has impacted her gait, her presence, her attitude. Her teeth; now chipped, broken, browned. The vicious despair surrounding her started seeping in to my brain, my eyes, my teeth. I can’t resist the pull behind my eyes, drawing me back to the new-found flaw. The infallible feature I’d always expected, disfigured. Gone before I wanted to let go. My best friend finally exposed in front of me, no witty sarcasm and smile to hide behind. I couldn’t comprehend the context of the ruin. An abusive relationship? Drug Addiction?
A fall, certainly, farther and faster than I’d ever care to see. Harder and more dreadful than I’ll ever know. The fall the world can see, the tragedy only I can hear.

Maybe it's the way her monarch hair reflected sunlight
Fluttering as if it were really a butterfly
Or maybe the constellation of freckles that painted her ivory skin
Perhaps the larger figure
Or that one tooth that didn't quite sit right

But no amount of hair dye can make my hair fly
My body they call a canvas will never quite catch the sun's attention
The slimmer body I hold will never be as curvy
And the train tracks
They aligned my crooked smile that he always loved on her

Now we never speak of the girl that was best friends with the sun
We pretend she never existed to keep from fighting or crying
He says he loves me now more than he ever did before
And I believe him
But only because the sunkissed girl ran away

And I was all that was left

Doth lead to dark doom,
when it is given room.

I’m falling into that trap again. Suddenly, the balance isn’t equal anymore because my heart decided to love more, again. Just when I thought that what we had is scheme-free, that the love is shared, that I’m your base just like you’re mine.. everything changed. Now any move from you can shatter me. You took over every acre of my weak field, you took over me, and I became so fragile, so needy for you. And the more I grow attached to you, the more you grow to be independent from me. Am I selfish, for wanting to receive love just for the simple fact that I’m giving it? Am I giving my heart to you because I want your heart? Or is it a selfless love? But if it is a selfless love, then why am I aching? why am I hurting? why am I expecting? Does loving you, alone, make me good enough? Does it make me deserve to have your arms as my home? Is this real, or am I making it up? Are you aware of what I’m feeling? Why am I writing? So maybe you’d hear my screams? I don’t want you to hear, I want you to listen. I want you to listen carefully until you realize that I’m yours, even if you aren't mine. Listen carefully, until you feel my love so maybe it’d awaken a flame for me in your cold heart.

Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go amaying.

thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
whose strangeness much
says;singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?

To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).

We were lying on the ground
Listening to the sound of driftwood
Cascading in the turquoise river
Taking in the beauty of the stars
While an orchestra of whippoorwills
And katydids sung the birds to sleep
We listened as the owls hooted in the darkness
And tree frogs warned us that spring is here
The beauty of that spring night
The softness of that tender grass
Like a pillow against my head
The fragrance of dewy lavender
Still lingers with me in my mind
Creating such a pleasant scene
As soothing as music to the soul
Creating such beautiful dreams
That dance inside my head at night

*~Marian~