december.and when they take meto the morgue,will you see the differencebetween my skin and the sheet?and when they close my eyesplease be standing over me,so that your facewill be the last thing they see.and when those tears falldown from your facepour them on my lips,so i can take you with me.and when they look awaycaress my bloodless face,give me one last gush ofwarmth.and when they bring the casketgently tuck me away to sleep,read me one last storyfrom that book atop the shelf.and when they place me in the ground,beneath six feet of dirt,leave your footprints in the snowand please don't let them melt.and when I fall to helli'll be waiting at the gates,but darling please take your timethere is no need to rush.
midnight express.i would never wantto live forever,so tell Deathwhen he comes for youto stall the trainbecause i'm going too.
You Kill Me the Way Books Do.You are all literatureis to me,your mind encompasses thebeautyof the whole earth.Your gentle eyesnarrate the greatest storynever told,and your ivory touchwrites the perfect poem.When you smile you area prince,adorned by golden crowns.When you cry you becomethe tragic hero,the martyr of the play.You are all the wordsthat fill each book,and I am the humble readerjust wishing you knew Iexist.
Empty Pages.You are the perfect story,A plot unfurling from your touch,And poetry in your eyes.You speak with golden glory,Into sentences of hate,And promises of lies.You are the bookI never had the words to write.
happily ever after? not really.cinderella is dead,prince charming,because you read other storiesand just couldn't keep your handsfrom tangling in rapunzel's golden hairor caressing aurora's sleeping face.
-and all these yearsit was in the wrong placeI did search for you,because heaven is not the only placewhere an angel can be found.
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my roomstaring at your picture on my mirrorand wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as youwould ever love someone like me,but then i rememberyou don't.
you don't need stars with city lights.i love the city,because you introduced us.your apartment was on wycliffe avenue,a rectangular gray-brick buildingthat was our make-shift castle.i could stay up all nightsitting on the fire-escapeand watch waves thrash within the harbor.long after midnight fledand we were still curled upon your couchmy parents would call to ask me where i was,even though they already knew.late night sirensand insomniac car horns,mixed with your measured breathingbecame a lullabythat lured me to sleepadmists the ivory sheets.i would always wakejust before dawnand wait for the sun to riseso together we could watch you awaken.and even as i said goodbyei was leaving my jackethanging on the kitchen chairjust to have another excuseto come back.
some words on bones.and you would always traila gentle fingertipalong my thinly veiled ribsthat rose up to the surfacewhen i inhaled your world.i loved the way your hipboneswould protrude with marble gloryas you lay upon your backand dreamed all the whilewe stayed and watched the stars.it was upon my collarbonesthat you left tender trailsof reddish-purple bruiseswhose presences made us laughin the morningwhen we saw your lips' footprints.the sharp and defined lineof your perfect jawalways left me speechlessas i watched them hingeeverytime you spoke,i guess my wordsgot sucked into your throat.you said that the bonesin my handwould always quiver when i got nervousso you grabbed my fingersand held them tight"structure," you whispered;and now that structurecrumbles.so maybe when we diethey'll pile our bones togetherand grind them into sandthat blows along theshores.
Flawed Canvas.Your lipsleft watercolorstainsall across my heart.My blood isn't evencrimson anymore,its a pale and dyinglilacthat bleeds onto the floorand paints a pictureof you.
glossy magazines:love your body!lose weight now.
against my psychiatrist's wishes.you always gave me rosesthat dripped from pages inwatercolor sinand fell onto the poemsi slipped into your hand.together we'd lieas each petal and word would slowly wilt,with shut eyes and frozen lips,all enveloped in lilac smokefrom our stained and burnt outhearts.
midnight misery.my hands were cold,so i asked you for some warmthand you gave me your heartto hold.but someone stole itwhile i sleptand now my whole bodyfreezes.
whispers.i was so hesitantto take your hand,because when you said you loved mei knew you meant itand that scared the hell out of me.
quiet nights.i just wanted you to hold meso tight my bones broke,but the force cracked my heartinstead.
friday night.on our firstdate,you took me to a cemeteryjust outside of town.i guess you wanted toshow mewhat you would do to me.
i hope you remember to bring the flowers.the stars whispered lateone nightas we lay beneath theirgrandeur."what if i die today?" you asked.and i told you in that case,i'd see you by tomorrow.
*if you could love me,would you?
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.The way they never asked too much of himor protested his requests.There was nothing superfluous in their design;simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.They were spry, robustready to take on the world withsharp and fluid motions.His bones were not brittle like she was.Not so breakable or frail,not so expendable.They didn't bend under pressureor fracture under stress.He loved his bones -their ivory purity eased his soul -and he was proud of the waythey held everything togetherso effortlessly.She knew one day he'd stomp thisold flame out, long before 'death do us part.'Cremation had never been part of the plan.
I Loved A GirlI loved a girl – she smelled like August melancholy,sweeter still,she carried the scent of festival emotions,tempered by the midnight flamesand fireflies' glow.I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,reflected dancing candlelight,while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,I discovered tiny galaxies,but most importantly – I saw my smile.I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,playing to the rhythm of my breath.Her every word,imprinted tender cherry blossoms,onto my soul.I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning aircool against my heavy forehead,her skin, softer than satin threads,played games with the waning moonbeams -its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.I loved a girl – she made me happy,and sadly - I love her still.
2. YouI have fallen in love with a poemthe red roses blooming over yourknees, the blue violets threadingand coursing through your veinsI have fallen in love with the haikuof your fingertips tapping syllablesdown my vertebrae five, seven, fiveI have pressed my heart like a bookmarkbetween the curled pages of your body,free-verse freckles scattered across theline-break nestled in the gorge betweenyour clavicle protrusions, stanzas faintlywhistling in the gaps amidst your shapedivory teeth, two eyes rhyming with mine;I have memorised the stream of consciousnessmurmured into my mouth as we kiss, as youwhisper spoken word lullabies into the crookof my arms, hands bracketed around my hipsas if I am the metaphor crafted by your similesmiling lips; the image ghosting behind wordsI start to think we are the closing couplet of a sonnetbut darling if you were a word, god you’d be purple-love, you are a poem,etched in an alphabetthat I don’t understand,that I can
i didn't hold on tight enoughI held onto you so tightbecause I was afraid of letting you go,but you slipped out of my armswhen I wasn't looking.
10.04Sometimes I wonder, if I wasan iris,beautiful but blue,withered in the summer wind-would I blend into the skylike the clouds drifting betweenthe rays of sun-or would I resemble the dark currentsin the night seabestowing the sailors with wonder and death
NothingI heard someone sarcastically sputter,"You are what you eat."But hearing that sole sentenceallowed me to finally understandwhy I amwhat I am:Nothing.
confessions in a crowded placei. When I was with youI could not write aboutlove in any tense.ii. I'm a messbecause of you.iii. Somedays I think thatI don't remember howyour smile tiltedslightly to the right.iv. There are more dayswhen I wish I could forget.
ReliefHis lips never tasted as sweet as they did when gleaming withthose three words, that somehow made everything feel so much better
head over heelsi’m tripping overmy two left feetlike the wordsthat are gracelesslyfumbling frommy chewed lips,my fingers danceacross the edgeof my shirttrying to geta grip on reality.my nerves are justkindergarten scribbleson coloring pagesstuck in the back ofmy throat—i can’t see youpast the beautifulview of my converseand the concrete weedsthat bloombeneath my feet.can you hear it?that infernal noiseringing out abovethe awkwardhellos and shy goodbyes?that’s the soundof my heart flailing,t-t-tumblinghead over heels,and praying;she’s praying for aset of arms tobreak her fall.
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jigsaw puzzle.i found you as brokenpiecesscattered about the ground,all mixed upin the dirt.it took some time,but i did tryto reassemble your body and mindand to mend that velvetheart.i didn't have the boxto go bybut i think the outcomeis beautiful.