On the longest, darkest night,
To pass the aching countdown until dawn,
We lit a candle to give us light,
A gentle flame to burn until our agonies were gone.

With wordless prayer upon my lips,
Of moonlight skin on flowing sheets,
In all the life that it has given,
Never did scarlet taste so sweet.

A path of blossoms in the dark,
Bloomed from worship of mouth on skin,
To beckon Death with gentle fingers,
Tell me, how could this be sin?

Let me soak up your burning blush against my skin as you lie with me,
Let me tell you
It is with you, my love, that I am clean;
It is like this when we are free.

He told me all the wonders of the world,
All the smoke-filled ponderings and philosophies,
Yet he himself was but a wretched worm.

Young but wary,
I’d walk past the mushroom without a bite,
And walk into the flower garden level headed.
Drawn as I was to the roses,
Lovely hues,
Too classic for so whimsical a place.

But oh what a pleasant surprise to be serenaded by a pretty stargazer.
Who trilled in lilting soprano,
Blossoms rounded in the curve of treble clef,
Shrill and wonderful
Such that even my skin listened

And what would I give to linger in the garden,
But the journey and path continue on.
After all, the smirking cat said nothing about staying,
Perhaps the smile will carry on.

A click of a lock at curfew cut off the chaos of the day,
The last pulse in the longest piece we’d had to play,
Stillness and silence until tomorrow’s dawn.

Until a string broke in the room,
A final sigh before the creak of drying wood,
The trio rocked and murmured ‘til my tears subsided.

The Sultan would spare the enchantress,
But I still wept, because I knew
That ten doors down, in her own prison,
Scheherazade was weeping too.

I may never know
What lies behind the veil each night.
I may never know
If pain or paradise await my mind,
If I will dream of milk and honey
Or run from hellhounds endlessly.
I may never know
What lies in store for me each night,
So I can toss and turn
As every day grows long and bleak,
But I can’t stay awake forever
For everyone must sleep.

Maybe I can cut my hair,
Fresh start,
Bring me closer to a feeling that’s not quite there.

Want to be loved,
Just not by you.
I wish I could feel for you the same way you do...
But there’s a sunflower seed still growing wild somewhere inside me,
Even though there’s no hope for it to be
It’s still there

In a weeping valley ringed by slumbering mountains
The most beautiful things
Are slivers of December sky
In between layers and layers of  clouds of darkened silver,
Reflected by the sea-bottle blue of sea glass panes.

The tops of spires nestle in fine mist,
And lifegiving raindrops splatter across crumbling walls,
They stain everything green,
Giving this haven of patchwork concrete and metal it’s name.

Let my sorrows depart swiftly with these silent currents,
Let my wishes be fulfilled by this emerald city.

Late mornings of waking up to lazy sunlight
Stretching its rays across a pastel sky like I stretch my legs deeper under the crackling blankets
In search of pockets of warmth to keep out the chill

Where in the day the cool clarity makes everything a bit too real,
The ringing boldness of every line,
The inexplicable scent of chocolate and cinnamon and hints of fir
The sharpness of the Frost’s playful bite

Night falls early upon young lovers,
And watercolor lights glow as soft and colorful
As the secretly enamored gleam of overflowing joy in their eyes,
As they wander hand in hand, sharing music from decades before their time

When a muffled quiet settles in the suburbs,
All edges coated softly in glinting silvery-white,
An amber glow of street lights  keeping the night at bay,
With rosy cheeks and dry eyelashes
Peppermint kisses are exchanged