i.

i used to only write sad poems.

ii.

you see,
i am a cynic,
a cemetery,
a holocaust,
a chaotic, distant, lost girl
buried in her own
self-destruction.

but with you
i am different.

i want to wake up,
keep my promises,
make up for lost time,
spill blood and ink,
try again,
live

for you.

iii.

you walk me home
and the skies blush
pink cloud summers
mid-December.

we part and i marvel
at the sepia tint
of backyard roses
blurring my lenses.

you came in
like the missing palette color
i never knew
i needed
my skies painted with.

iv.

now, you are all the love poems
i didn't know i could write.

and every metaphor i create
is just a lengthier version of
'i love you'

i really do.

I knew I loved you
since the fourth feather light forehead kiss.
In your presence
I am isolated in utopian bliss.

An island overlooking
glowing hydrogen masses
of what looks like Pacific fires,
or Polaris,
or just you.

Small suns floating in nautical blue,
showered in Pearl Harbor reds
and paper kamikaze sunset hues.

My high sandcastle walls fall
a million grains all over the beach
and I am defenseless against the tide
that is about to swallow me.

I melt away,
let my demons burn,
open the gates,
and let the little girl escape.

I look at you
and everything
is made out of light.

You make every day
worth waking up to.

with
days now past
for the doses, I would not sleep
incantations keeping dark horses
at bay, crowding
the edge of sensation
with a tension
that kept me buoyant
yet moored.

draw
all fast fumbling thoughts
heartaches flooding into veins
discord between passion
and intellect
as my head drowns
needing now
too much sleep
as if to
find the rest
of my dreams.

I thought she was in the room with me
it is now clear she is somewhere
across a stretch of rushing thought
like a river that pulls those who dare to float
down onto breaking rocks.

My meaning seems to drown
swept away
and I make hasty calculations
on ****** expressions
trying to determine the safe passage
for my words.

What I would give
to be able to unshackle me from my body
climb into her head
and be done with guessing.

what was once a galaxy
has become a minefield
of massive black holes,
and all our rocket ships
have crash landed
without taking us home.

lost dreams of flying,
mechanical wings,
intergalactic suffocation,
stars in glass jars
as souvenirs
just in case we got close
to the moon.

we took off as one,
our faulty parts disintegrating
upon reaching the exosphere.
turbulence, then nothingness,
a lack of closure,
and gravity
working in reverse.

And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.

It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break

i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again

Tonight,
Just go and stare at the moon
Until her unfamiliarity becomes familiar.
Stare until the pink sky fades to gray,
Stare until you have to look away to marvel and
Suddenly, the sky is alive with stars.

Tonight,
Just go to the moon with open ears
Until you hear her faint laughter, a passing breeze.
Listen until you understand her,
Listen until she begins to share the
Countless secrets whispered to her.

Tonight,
Just go to the moon with open arms,
Until you feel a swelling in your chest.
Feel the way her gentle fingers stroke your face,
Feel the way she holds you, this
Guardian angel guiding you through the night.

Tonight,
Just go to the moon and talk
Until you've nothing more to discuss.
Talk about your day (she doesn't see it all).
Talk about how you cannot wait to have someone with whom
To see the moon.

When people say, "let me know how I can help,"
I always smile and nod.
It's sweet of them, and kind, but on the inside my heart

d
  r
   o
     p
       s

Later than night, when I'm curled under my desk,
hands over my ears
and the smothering weight of panic squeezes me, crushes me,
that sentence echoes.
"How can I help?"
I don't know.
I don't know.
Can you help?
Can I be helped?
I sit and ride it out, and my phone stays on the table.

The next day they ask, "are you doing better?"
I reach for my pen and scratch a smile onto my face.
Much better. Thank you for asking.
My insides are empty.