not okay.
i'm sorry that sometimes i make you feel as if you're flying high but then the next thing i do is ripping your wings off and watching you fall
and i'm sorry that i can't pick up your pieces but i still try to pick up myself
i remember all the times when i asked you to tell me it's okay and you did, even though it wasn't
i remember when i broke your heart for the first time
and how you've let me break it again and again and again
and when one time i cried "enough" and told you to finally leave me
but you didn't
and i couldn't stand how you could stand me and i got so angry at you for not wanting to lose the weight of me
because honestly, i don't think you should love me, i always feel so lonely
and i think i'm ready to fight for us but everytime i pick up the sword it's pointed at you
so this is how it is
you were lying all this time because you see
that was not okay
hope this letter finds you in good health.
Zero gravity
Give me wings to fly,
let me feel the wind
brush my feathers.
All we do is fly
from dawn till dusk,
deep into the sky.
No worries weighs us down.
No sorrow can alter our flight.
We fly...
with the wings of love
as our guide.
All the directions we take
are overwhelmed
by love's strain.
Give me the wind to glide...
I'm armed with the storm
to rise higher in the sky.
Like a falcon
poised to break
the unapologetic tide.
We dive...
into the storm of endless passion.
We are the change the world needs,
both you and I.
Our worlds are changing,
'cause we dare to fly,
to where love as never been
allowed to thrive.
Should we show them that place?
The one we discovered?
I'll be ready when you are.
...To fly.
Launch
All systems are go,
a billion dollar rocket
is far from it goal.
But at this moment
we'll manage the console.
It might be outdated,
far from what I hoped.
It's ready for lift off.
Start the countdown,
please don't explode.
The hour I put in
were not mine alone.
It belongs to her universe,
she's te aurora borealis
that give color to my globe.
Sit back, relax,
take a sip of wine.
Hot cocoa might be bold,
let it send chills
through your spine.
By the time you look up high.
Its her world
lightening up the sky.
Watch...
Memories
memories think for themselves
like the Mona Lisa whose eyes
follow you around the room.
they are powerful but they whisper
in the wind. they can make you feel dizzy,
like you are jumping off a cliff into
a raging ocean. they will visit you
if you let them. it's all your choice. it's your decision. if you put your head down
on a soft pillow, they will come.
At Last My Pen Has Found Her
She breathes soft, with parted lips,
And I'm holding her lungs
As she dreams,
Taking drags of her exhales and
Twirling her secrets with my fingers,
Conducting a ballad for ghosts.
And the rhythm matches her pulse.
And I can't stop taking shots
That smell like her hair,
closing my eyes around the memory of this.
Trying to zipper her heartbeats into me.
If only secrets could fall dead like fall,
I would walk walk
On the voices of nightmares,
And squish fireflies into her hair,
so her dreams can make the light
Flicker.
But the strands grazed by my touch
hide even the brightest of dawns.
And the morning will erase it all.
And show the guts matted on her skull.
And when it rains, I'll say a prayer,
For innocence as it's washed
Into the dirt,
Like moonlight turned
To threads,
Streaking across the body of earth
As though to stitch the wound.
There will be
A canyon reflecting her face,
A reminder for angels that it is possible
To
Heal.
And I'm drunk
On the tears she plucked from her heart,
tripping like those who sleep in alleys,
And I will join them.
And live off
The electronic clicks she makes
When she blinks.
Because my hands
Crave that moment
Of eyelids eclipsing sun,
Of lashes that blanket
Full moons
And drown the sound of wolves
As they hold tongue,
Standing in awe
Of her footprints, deciding
that they followed the wrong trail,
Chasing the kill,
And missing flower.
I stand unsurprised,
Caressing the shadow
Of her,
As she replaces dawn
So I will build a pulpit in my heart
And tell the tale of fingertip
And flesh until I believe
That her outline
Makes perfect sense
Of the havoc,
Chapter and verse pinpointing treasure.
Like coordinates.
And me,
Sailing to discover
places lost long ago.
Where my death becomes a rudder
And guides me past the tides
holding her,
As all my intention
snakes along the shore,
hoping to pull her into me,
That there would be no blade of sand
That separates,
And if only for a while
my current would carry
her weightless into the deep.
And our love will salt the sea,
and she will break the fangs of sharks
to a dust she'll wear as glitter,
and we will dig beneath the ocean
and I will shatter coral and stone
to clear the currents,
and watch my blood become clear
as it fades like smoke into the liquid.
And we will chew the rust of treasure
and gold
as decay creeps like mercy
over the surface of coin and crown,
because down here,
everything will fade beneath her,
and her splendor
will make every sunken ship
forfeit hope of rescue,
for who would dig further
than her reflection?
So I will sever the neck
that is not there,
and orphan the octopus
for need of ink dark enough
to make a map,
that her eyes would see the path to shore.
and the massacre will lead her to safety.
And I will drag her beyond horizon
to a place where rescue is impossible.
Where she will tame volcanoes with a smirk,
where she will bleed the magic of paradise
like a vein needing rest,
an undoing of logic into mayhem.
I will trap that conquered earth
into my heart,
she will resurrect sand to stone
by merely looking,
I only hope,
to be caught within the gaze.
And when it's too dark to see,
I'll connect the dots hanging from heaven
as stars that dangle
like a necklace around an angels throat,
and follow her freckles
into the sky,
to a place where everything
reminds me of her face.
She'll pretend she doesn't notice,
but I will rip the canopy of clouds
until she has room to stand above it,
and see,
the shadow of her is a premonition
of all that shines.
And from this perch,
she will rain down love with furry,
and scratch the dirt with empathy,
and I will stand in awe
as all her prayers change
from vapor to concrete.
And I'll become a scribe,
using my skin in place of parchment,
writing the saga of her soul,
where no beating chest fails,
and the screams of devils flee
the halos raining down from her eyelids.
And death would beg for mercy,
fearful of a world that bends
beyond reason and doubt.
And we will follow her tears
back into the soil,
like starting over,
and her footprints will give way to dawn,
and she will tell the broken
how blemish became beacon,
and every little belly will feast
on ink and blood and broken soil,
and every mother would know
the secrets that pierce heaven,
and every babe would drink
like tomorrow is certain,
and every father would rise
like blood in water until the smoke
became bread,
and she would carve her tombstone
with prayers,
telling of a journey that took her
beyond the brink of death
and life,
into an abyss where heaven
waits in such a heart as hers.
And I will hang my sins until they die,
until every attempt to breathe
reminds me of her sleeping
soft within my arms,
dreaming of a day when all these words
awaken and her hope becomes reality.
I have no knowledge of what will wake
with us in the morning,
but I pretend that whatever it is,
will in some way look like her.
But she breathes soft,
and my hands are full
and my eyes are losing focus,
music beginning to fade within me,
I know the world inside her
will fall before she wakes.
But she's talking in her sleep,
and I hear it all, like learning a language
I'm not ready for.
And soon, her dreams will become braille
and I'll reach for it as one blind,
and my hands will trace her cheeks
and try to learn the pattern of her lips
as they make a map bright enough
to lead me into safety.
Who Am I?
Lulling you to slumber
a repetitive rhythm
cooling your toes
in sunset tinges.
Hold your breath
to explore my depth.
When I lose my temper
walk away from me
until I wrap you
in harmony.
I’ll burnish your skin
and raise your heat,
leave your soul refreshed
without missing a beat.
Embracing you at dawn,
I’ll show you passion
again and again.
I’ll shift your emotions
and stir you in squalls,
I’ll toss you about
but you’ll rise
to the surface.
I’ll be there for you
I’m not going anywhere,
your’re deep within
my loving womb
as I give birth
to ebbing peace.
Daily Prompt #3
You know I thought this would be easy
Go through school
Maybe travel and live on my own
Find someone who loves me
Settle down and have a family
But life takes a whole lot more
Than just four steps
I didn't know about step number thirteen
Where you have to learn to be comfortable
In your own skin
And not worry about
Fat or thin
I wasn't aware of step number seven
Where people won't always care
About what you want
And tears won't always stop
Their hurtful taunts
How could I have foreseen
Step number fifteen
Where I have to go through
Unspeakable grief
When my mother
Is taken away from me
There are so many steps
And still more to come
I am tired of trying
To swim upstream
I am tired of trying
To fight a losing battle
But then again
What is life really
Without a little resistance
Mixed in with our bleak existence