You asked me why I love you
And here’s a couple of reasons why:

You hold me like you can feel the
World, twirling on its axis
And if you let go we will both start spinning in an unending dance
And as we drift and glide among the stars we will slip and slid in the affections of the heart.
So instead you hold me
And I hold you, as if I never want to let you go, because while the stars are breathtaking, they lack the warmth of home. And while the dance is dizzying it’s hard to breathe without you.

Your eyes.
I could go on for days about your eyes. They entice me in their depths. The way the sunlight hits them in a wave of golden sparkles and then, you smile and I feel like i have a sunset for blood and a stardust heart. The way they light up as you behold the world.
The way your pupils dialate when they behold me. As if I am a star bright enough to burn away the world until it is just a breath, and a blur of color between our heart beats.

Your voice.
The way it rises and falls with the crisendo of your emotions. The way your breathing breaks up the beat of a steady sentence. The way it caresses my name like the breeze caresses a lilac blossom on a spring morn. The way it lulls me into a dreamy trance from which I have no desire to escape.

Your heart.
The way it’s song shifts, and tempo picks up, just a bit as I run my fingers over the smooth surface of your skin. The comforting rhythm beneath my ear as we match breathing before falling into dreams grasp. The way your heart strings tug and tangle when you fall in front of someone in need. How it pangs for those who have more misfortune then you. The way it’s song floats around me like wishes on the wind and tangled with my own until my own beat seems infinitely more beautiful and alien at the same time.

I have this irrational fear
That you will leave me
To chase after a brighter star.
And I don’t know how to react
But I do know, that if you did..
        I would let you.
And every night I would look up at the moon and we would agree
that you and the sun are alike.
Both so pretty and both just out of reach. And I would find solace amoung the moonbeams as I watch you spin dazzlingly amoung the sun as you dance between the stars.

They say that death is quiet. That it comes so fast and sudden that it is a surprise to the world. Because the world keeps going, as if it never happened.

I disagree. I have never known a silent death in my life. For me, death is so loud, that it deafens me. Until all I hear is ringing and muffled sounds. Like a bomb just went off, and in a way, I guess it had. The world moves to a slow motion until it is measured by nothing but a heart beat, and even that will stop eventually. Until your breath gives out and your knees crumple before you. "Its beautiful" they say, "the way that life and death entwines in an eternal dance." Yes. This is beautiful, me lying here beside you as you struggle for life, fighting to keep your heart beating. I watch as fear consumes you, you don't want to die, that much is plain to see, because you think your too young. Well let me inform you of something. You will ALWAYS be too young. It will never be enough because you don't know what happens next. For some it is a relief, they hope that this is it, the end of the line. That they cease to exist. Those are the ones who live life they way the want to. Or their are those of you who dread and fear it. Believing that God is waiting on the other side. Those are the ones who live their lives doing good, trying to make it to heaven. And then their are those of you who push it aside. Who hide from the fact that one day your hear, then gone the next. You are the ones who live in mediocre boredom forever chained down by your fear, as you waste away inside of these four paper walls, in front of the screen of some form.

I am here to remind you that I exist. I am death. I am release to some and horror to others. And I am here to tell you that your time is fast approaching. I may be at your doorstep right now, or I may be waiting on the sidelines for years to come. But I am here. And one day you will find me beside you, embracing you as you fight to keep your fire burning. You may evade me once or twice but you will see me one day. And I shall ask you this, have you lived as you wanted to live? Or have you squandered away your days? Will you be remembered? And if so how? Will people laugh and say "you won't be missed" or will they wail and pull at their hair, gnashing their teeth as they cry for their loss? Are you loved or hated?  if you are loved, you shall not be forgotten, and that is the immortality you are all seeking, just as my immortality is here, among the words I write. Who knows? By the time your reading this, maybe I have passed to. Because even death is not immortal.

Unrelatedly,
I’ve lost my appetite.

We are not poets.
Nor are we artists.
         We are the bleeding hearts
                                                   Daring to rebel.
Society cuts this world into careful little blocks.
Devided by cold cut stones forced to comply.
And yet,
             If you look a little closer, you will notice,
                  Not us, for you will never see our face
   But you will see our fragments.
             The pieces of us we leave behind for you
                Scattered among these cold stone walls
Words we have carved into the stone
             With our own ****** nails.
                              Proof that we exsist.
                                               Proof that you can to.
So here we are,
                    Strings of letters
                                       And scattered lines,
                                 All echoing the same war cry.
                          “We Are Here.”
                                                    "Are You?"

“What’s the harm?” they whisper,
“What’s the problem
in being everyone’s fantasy?”
“In having all of your friends
find your flesh attractive?”
“Having the pretty privilege
morph into the entitlement of others?”

As they claim my skin
and caress my bones.
Peeling pieces of my body
and making themselves at home.

Consent is implied
within the lines
of whatever bond we hold.
Friends, family, lovers.
What’s the harm in giving them
what they want,
what they demand they need.
In watching them eat you up
With a never ending greed.

“But you’re my fantasy”
as if I’m obligated
to the impressions of me
you’ve shoved down my throat.
Until I’m choking and sobbing
pleading you to relinquish your hold.

Your eyes leave imprints and bruises
as you salivate over a body
I don’t even see.
It was only 3rd grade.
Again, when merely rending
the damaged goods of a teen.
By the time I was an adult
it was the only way I was seen.

But age matters not,
when you were never perceived
as a human being,
simply a desire
for others to devour.

“What’s the harm in being a *** dream?”
They scream “we’re all friends here”
as they render my sobriety to shreds
Only to tell me that it’s all in my head.

Society taught me to turn a blind eye,
“what’s the harm?” It said with a sigh.
They drugged me with ignorance,
refuting my plea.

A passing inconvenience for you
Born of my own naïveté,
is a trauma memory
that I can never undo.

There isn’t a piece of me
you’ve not seen,
nothing left of myself
to discover.
You’ve rendered my own exploration
into nothing more than a detour.

You’ve taken every first
I could have claimed
and thought to beat a dog
was the equivalent of making it tame. 
So now I’m sobbing into a void
wondering why I was ever
a thing that you could destroy?