Let the flowers crown your crown
with life, leeway, and lust

Let the blossoms crowd your crowd
in your mind, marked and mine

Let the starlight head your head
from dye, disaster, and divinity

Let the acetone guard your heart
because when it comes to breaking patterns
rhymes
and constancy
you seem to be
holy

But you said, she whispered, her voice laced with poison and smoke. *You said dragons don't exist.
I never said they didn't exist, I breathed, the snow melting beneath our twitching fingers. **I said I'd never seen one. Until now.

I can't stop listening to Paramore.

And inside my head there's a sparkly tornado
That won't stop turning, holding together
All the thoughts I love and hate
In a fine frenzy of the deepest shades of
Black and brightest shades of white
That there are...and yet...
This storm, I know, won't stop,
It'll just keep pelting me with stinging memories
That sing as the fervor only increases,
Leaving me spinning, spinning, spinning....

And I can't stop listening to Paramore.

Apparently, my phone has a problem with my listening to Hamilton...

What right have you
to tell her she's not beautiful
to press her till she can't breathe
to make her believe she's nothing?

What right have you
to push her around
to deflate her self esteem
to carve her heart out?

What right?

None.

So *******.

Why can't I?
It should be easy, simple, really.
So why isn't it?
It's me.
My faults, my ideas, my muses, my inspirations that keep me awake at night when I should be sleeping.
It's him, reverbrating through my brain until I can't breathe with anticipation. Why can't I focus?
If only these feelings would back down...
But then, I wouldn't be human.
Am I?

Sunshine bleeds too much.
Ever stop to wonder?

To wonder how, with so little inhibition
as to the privacy of your life,
it filters in through
your bedroom shades?

To wonder how, with so little modesty,
it bolsters through your windshield
and into the very irises
that have bade it leave?

To wonder how, with so little attempt at civility
it burns?

Beauty and brightness
are not the same thing.

but happiness
can bloom
in dark places...

Contract;

In order for this business relationship to be beneficial to both parties, here is what to expect, and what I'll expect in return.

I expect you to give me attention, especially when I plead that I don't need it. I expect sweet messages sent at random that don't hold any relevancy to what we're experiencing. I expect truth, loyalty, and respect. I expect your time.

In return, you can expect being loved until you wish you had never met me in the first place, being attentively looked after but not to the point of clinginess. You'll be privy to poems, songs, and ideas penned about you frequently, and you'll never be alone. Your heart will be mine to guard and to keep not as my own but as ours. And know this; I will never leave.

Terms for this agreement are thus; time will be made for the other party. I will not have to experience a breakup over the phone because you won't make time to see me after six months of what I thought was love. We won't have to make excuses about how we're still hanging in there; if things don't work, they don't work.

And finally, we must agree to be mutually exclusive.

Under these conditions- which are for the most part immobile but are open to suggestion- and these conditions only will this business agreement be not only agreed upon but maintained. Any breach of this contract will result in...well.

Term to end: hopefully, never.

Just sign the dotted line, here.

____________X

Over the tabletop
Nothing to do
They're lonely and empty
From not touching you

They lounge and they dance
They tap and they wait
But your skin's not there
And they anticipate

The day that they'll find
The touch that they crave
On the hips of the one
Who they intend to save

And meanwhile, my heart
waits on and forever, stuck
swinging like my fingertips
without love's luck

so many different ones
that i chance to wear
so many that i have
decorated with care

there's my angry
for my stress
and my anxious
for my work
and my happy
for my friends
and my golden
for my family

sometimes they get stuck
and i cant get them off
and have to just keep acting
until i've forgotten
the face that lies underneath

Let me steal the moonlight from your hair
and bottle it

Let me get caught in the crossfire of your thoughts
and stay there

Let me intrude upon your late night musings
and become one

Let me borrow a few strings that make up your heart
and fortify them

Oh, the things I'd lay down, sacrifice, put away for you
If only you
let me

wary wary wary
weary weary weary

what, is there a difference?

You have to realize that your convictions and desires to work toward being a better person and not regretting your past mistakes apply to others. Trying to move past problems you've created with others within your history but putting others down for trying to move past theirs doesn't make any sense.....what do you really believe in?

Darling?

Darling?

Darling?

I love you, I swear it.
I'm not upset, I swear it.
I'm safe, I swear it.

I'm better- can you believe that?

We say I love you over the phone in an echoing tone
Over and over and over again.

It is only now that I realize it's for each and every day we cannot talk, so that not a day goes by without being filled with one. And I smile at this realization.

And I hope you do too. You're beautiful with a smile and without.

But seeing that smile gives me so much hope, angel.

And I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

They just keep getting higher and higher
yet the merchandise stays the same

Why does my heart
always cost me
so much?

One for the girl who doesn't want it

Two for the boy who does

Three for the man who shuns it and scorns it

Four for the grandma who knits

Five for the uncle who's ma's disappointment

Six for the burdened mother

Seven for the cousin who's the runt of the litter

Eight for the sister who's drowned in a shadow

Nine for the godmother whose hands are *******

And Ten.

TEN.

For the boy who happens to make my heart sing

and ten more for the boy

who has angel wings.

My love for you is digital,
Resides within my phone...
To look back on our messages
Is to no more be alone.

White feathers
stream from Elsa's mattress
Snowfalls in Germany

Good mourning.

Just woke up without his face next to me...
How can Fate be so cruel?
Is she alone too?

time belongs to no one.
rather, it belongs to everyone.

everyone but the one who wishes
they could harness it.

like a wild horse, it can only be
tamed if it is given.

given, given from those who we
try in vain to give it to.

my time is not my time,
and yours is not yours.

it switches, it tangles...
and it is given, and taken away.

You control my time.
And I control yours.

I just want someone
to hold my hand
guard my heart
keep me safe
and tear me apart

Rip open my heartstrings
scathe my whole mind
be in my heart
and turn me blind

I want a love that makes me whole
but rips me open to
the venerability of a life
where caution is through

I get busy.

I have a hard work ethic, and while it may be a curse for people I care about, it's not for me.

Working makes me very happy...

...so do you. But Life likes being lived in quarantines, and I'm not going to break walls between regions just to let them collide.

Too messy.

To which demons it may concern;

You know me. I'm your worst enemy.
I'm the sunshine that breaks your attempts at drowning her.
I'm the flower petals that infiltrate the scent of your rot.

You wish me gone.
I understand.
But understand in turn that is what I wish of you.

You have no right to push her over any cliffs of your choosing.
You have no right to make her feel as worthless as she does.
You have no right to play upon her heartstrings like an overplayed violin.

And if you ever lay a single claw mark upon her skin again, you'll wish you were back in hell.

Because that's way nicer than where I'm gonna send you.

Sincerely,

Hers

Sparkly.
Vibrant.
Lively, yet hiding something.

What can glitter hide?
What can sequins disguise?

Pink- intuitive, insightful, kind.

Under that glimmering surface
there is love.
Hurt.
Confusion.

And I'm never going to let go of
my wish
to enlarge
the love.

Don't you think it'd be ludacris if
Kissing you wasn't everything
That made my world spin?

You misread my meaning.

Our relationship invoked
In me a feeling
I thought would help
Us rule
The world

There's no pride
In this shattered
Crown now
Is there?

Peeling away layer by layer, I'm slowly becoming whole.
Wrapper after wrapper- will someone eat my candy heart when there's nothing left to hide it?
I'm so exposed, so open; the breeze wafts between layers, shaking them loose, and they waft to the ground like leaves.
Will this edifice be strong enough to stand on its own?
Built out of feeble candy cigarettes and held together by pink bubble gum, it's already been chewed up and spit out, more wrappings being formed to protect its' already collapsing structure.
Will it survive?
Will I survive?
**Chomp.

Haven't you noticed
that I'm not like them?
You're taken
-believe me, I know-
but she's not any different
from those you yourself
despise with your whole being

I feel things
I know how you operate
Messages portrayed through
a screen like this
mean less than spoken word
but what if I
could speak with
the pentameter of
a keyboard....

Your eyes shine brighter
that the bright white light
that emanates from my
electronic book
of wonders
yet I do not understand
how you don't
feel it too

We are both tweaked
a bit lost
and a bit lonely
Need a place
a loving face
and I think for you
I could be
the one

I've had to discard my watch
And duct tape my clocks
Into a black electrical silence

Time is never enough
And with him,
I wish it'd stop
Completely

did anyone ever care about my flowers?
i never watered them
as they should have been
i drew them in gentle, attentive
detail and kissed every petal and leaf
i smelled their virtue until my arms
ached with the repose of memories and triggers

i never watered them as they should have been
for that would have required
slicing them.

Hey, handsome.
I can't top the sweetness you left me, but I can try.
Do you know how big of an impact you've made on me?
Sit there a moment.
Reflect.
In the past two days I've felt more alive than ever.
As you stretch slightly and the corners of your mouth turn upwards in concentration, think of me.
Think of how it felt when you first saw my face.
And save that reaction.
Is it ludacris to want to end this note with 'I love you?'
I rest my case.
-Hannah

She was always cautious. Momma had always told her not to stray too far towards the edge, that the gold lining of the clouds would tempt her up and over what was well and good. And if she didn't look carefully enough, she'd fall instead of fly.

She was always waiting. Sometimes, she was lured near the edge by a cloud or two, but was able to catch herself before lunging off the amethyst cliff into the dark nothing in which she could either sink or soar.

She was always lonely. So many figures danced just along the edge, just out of her grasp, their blurred outlines shining brighten than molten sunshine, calling to her. pulling at her humble clothing.

She was never desperate. Although even the slightest murmur of her name was enough to get her up and running towards the edge, she always awoke from the nightmare...and would always regret not taking the risk.

Until she did.

She was always shy. But when the wisp of hope outlined by the shadows of the moon itself reached out its twilight fingertips to her and beckoned, promising a life beyond the farthest jump she could possibly muster, she heard. And she believed.

She was always meek. Not believing in herself but in the hands that held hers, she ventured to the edge, peering over into the lilac abyss and the stars above. And she jumped.

She was always forgettable. No sooner had her toes left the glossy surface of the biggest cliff she had ever faced in her life, her memory was wiped from the minds of those who knew her, to be replaced by something brighter, shinier, newer.

And then she was gone. But no one would miss her.

I am not an artist but art,
and from the world-- set apart;
in life and love, the push and shove
wreaks havoc on my painted heart.

I Will Connect Them

I will connect them
to the sun:
     let the gold run through her veins like liquid lava
     give his hair a soft, golden glow
     streak their cheeks with burning caresses
     stain the mother's brown eyes with molten shine, let it infiltrate her irises like a      counter spy
     splatter the flowers in the field with a bright, inhuman gleam

I will connect them
to the stars:
      let them reflect in her eyes and her new diamond ring
      place them in the tears of a father whose sole reason for living, the star he called his       own, has left to join the others of her kind
      place the shine among his midnight strands, hidden beneath shadow
      lend their light to the late night insomniac who roams Second Street, searching for       beauty
      give their inspiration to the ink stained man without a muse, bandaged fingers       tapping restlessly on the side of his coffee cup

I will connect them
to the sky:
     let the azure sweep over her glass-capped, personalized periscopes, and bend their
     pigment to match its own
     present the splashes of summer laughter to them in a cool, salty refreshment
     inspire them with fragmented hues and tease their soft spoken lips
     bleed the atmospheric tint into the petals of the rarest herb there is

I will connect them
to my creation.

I will connect them
though they
        see me not
        hear me not
        believe me not
        thank me not.

I will connect them
in hopes they may
      someday connect
to me.

One day I'll understand this feeling
I'm alone in a room of my family, but I'm not alone.

I have myself, don't I?
I'm always there for me, aren't I?

I ask myself this on a daily basis when my friends seem to care more about me than I do myself.

Once I'm gone, maybe things will change.

She's a CAT.
     -Just a cat?
Nope, a CAT.
     -What's that?

It's the cool, calming sense she carries to all she knows and loves,
it's the able-bodied awesomeness she wears as she does her favorite hat,
It's the terrifically tight hugs she gives, warm like woolen gloves.

See, that's what makes her Allie.
     -*And the best kind of CAT at that.

When someone needs you and you're too far away
or when you're not sure if you're what they need to stop the hurt
or if you're what's causing it

does it bother you when my mind starts racing and one moment i'm thinking of what great friends were and the next it's all what-if-we-weren't and what-if-i-lose-you and all the **** that you say constantly that i should never worry about but i can't exactly help it and then i feel bad for feeling bad and wonder if you're annoyed but can't exactly stop worrying because that's just how i operate but i can just sit and hope that you understand...

...do you?

To hold a candle in one's palm
And let the wax drop into a soul that yearns for brightness;
To polish off a set of silverware
That is set in the back of the china cabinet;
To these actions does one owe the breadth of sincerity
Reached only by the mobile and task-less mind.
When I was a young child,
Cloud scanning was naught but a foolish game
That only the sloth did chance to play.
Yet white pirate ships and marshmallow fantasies
Would still laugh and dance just out of my stunted reach
Until my tangled shoelaces tripped my idleness into
An emerald green oblivion as my knees met ground.
Parallels exist when one matures;
It's just as easy to trip over a pair of high heels.
To what end, then, do we owe the dusting off
Of the old mahogany boxes of memories?
To which source do we credit the rolling film
That replays childlike nostalgia through a sepia tinted lens?
To the wonders of the mind and the memories within,
We owe our deigning to produce and beginning to dream.

Does everyone have a calling?
For, I think that mine's been stalling
And is simply appalling
Just how cruel our life can be.

Days when I'm glad he's staying
Nights when I stay up praying
Dawns when I keep relaying
Just how cruel our life can be.

The times when he holds me tight
Just close enough to feel just right;
I wake, then scream in hard cold spite
Just how cruel our life can be.

The day when your ancient old cat dies
The crude old sweaters your grandma buys,
That's when you come to realize
Just how cruel our life can be.

Dressed in liquid reality,
Flames fanned by false equality;
Yet sometimes we may never see
Just how cruel our life can be.

I can no more weave words
than an arthritic spider.

All I do is open my fingertips
and let loose the emotions too powerful
to let out of my mouth
in hopes that they aren't sullied by the printed letter.

How is this silver?

I do wish someone would tell me
what effect,
to what extent,
my words
can inspire
love

and oh, if only that love
were in the eyes
of the muse

Gone are the tails,
the shimmering whales,
gone are the watery sheens,

absent are mermaids
and absent, her trade,
told 'neath the blue and green sea,

quiet are sea maps
and quiet are *****
that conduct and yell and keep time,

silenced are wet niches
and silenced are witches
that spellbind within the dark brine.

But on songs will twirl
in the soul of the girl
that coils the gold strands together,

and beat the drums will
with a pulse in the still
that holds in our young hearts forever.

This emptiness makes me want to write
a song, a poem
i could care less

I want to write something that will make someone feel something

what if i were to write

goodbye

Note is wrapped around a small pink apple, the size of a fist*

I suppose
But what better honor is there
than to wait for the right time
and receive but more glory
in which to bathe your humble self
instead of crashing and burning,
being missed by all whose eyes
have had the pleasure of
meeting yours.

My irises,
for one,
would love
nothing more
than to witness
the fire within the
saddened eyes of
the friend I have made
easily, almost too easily.

Niklas.
It rolls off my tongue better than my
own name, it sounds of bells within
my dimwitted mind. If you could hear,
I would sing it over and over again to
be borne by the fingers of the wind
goddesses for your ears and yours alone
to relish, to give you rest from your
current toil.

How helpless am I, Little Cherie.

We were better off together.

The late night conversations, the happiness, the snuggling into the covers ad sighing at sweet messages from a dimly lit screen

We were better off paired, like jeans--who wants only one leg?

The intake of breath when our eyes met, the constant need to be touching in some way, the flurry of butterflies we gave to each other

We were better off squared, where we could always protect each other

And now I'm left to wonder--do you feel as raw as I do?

Rawer and more exposed than I've ever felt, yet little to do to remedy it....I want that second layer wrapped around me.

But when I reach for it....it's never there.

A time to start pondering new wishes
and how close you know you can get
to them before the hours chase you
back to the cot where you started