I'm addicted to loud nights,
to crushing happiness into a fine mist and feeling it disintegrate in my fist.
I live to steal a pretty grin, for the taste is beguiling as sin.
I feast on black skies designed to crash that are stuffed with glee that cannot last.
I love to breathe in that youthful waste, a hopefulness and eagerness so often misplaced.
I crave that outer skin, the one that doesn't quite lock you in.
I'm addicted to those loud nights but when morning comes, I will not fight.
I remember the sky,
the way it bruised that night,
a deep blue and purple and indigo.
You reached up, your smile widened,
and your hand drew back those same shades.
Your fingertips were ink-stained,
a small sky on each finger.
I reached up and grasped only air.
it is not a solution i long for,
it is a friend, a shoulder, a hand to squeeze mine.
and it is not answers i crave,
it is warmth, softness, an anchor to the Earth.
you don't have to understand me,
or the shadows that cling to my silhouette,
just be a light in my darkness,
and that is more than enough.
I want to evaporate,
float away from the Earth's hard crust
and live amongst the clouds.
I want to unzip my skin and melt into streams and lakes.
I want a release, but all these little things
are weights in my shoes,
Under pretty guise
with a voice like new day's dawn,
you almost shone gold.
and it is a quiet kind of love we share,
a ghost of a lifetime between us.
it is solid and soft, a force like the sea,
gentle as summer breeze.
it is careful and measured, an ebbing and flowing, waning and waxing.
it is like breathing, to love you, and I will, long after my lungs give out.
she sticks to my shadows,
a ghost, a memory, a corpse.
she only comes alive in my dreams
and then she's a burst of colour and vitality,
a love revived decades later.
she is printed beneath my skin,
a darkness so black it looks like nothing.
But, God, it feels like everything.