confessions of a scorned romantic
truly, i am cowardly,
yet capable of loving boldly.
honestly, I'm too subtle,
knowing no one ever truly settles.
sadly, I'm just far too wary
an unmarked grave you'll have to bury.
infinitely, I'm a gamble,
not to be taken in amounts of ample.
not meant to be taken lightly,
but made to be held so fondly,
and truly, in all my honesty,
i am lovely. stupidly, dearly,
frequently lively for you,
all encased in a forest green hue.
musings of the romantic #1
i am highly aware of the stare you bless me with, lover.
your hues of verdant,
to which i am a servant,
nearly soften my grown bones.
breathless, i'm nearly blown.
an ode to the metamorphosis,
for i have shown every orifice.
obscene painted green,
i'll allow it to be seen.
The Narrative of a 21st Century Romantic
this dance we take is subtle but loud,
vigorously performing for a two person crowd.
your steps aren't quiet,
but i never mind it,
and all the words said are vivacious but private.
and when the floors creak,
my mane becomes meek.
and i take two steps back to the wall,
in that way, you'll never know if I liked you at all.
born heavy.
well-cut keratin,
pure smooth satin.
wipe on the depth,
your pain that is kept,
is sticky.
paint in the shading,
blue hands are fading,
it's sneaky.
smells like a drug,
a grave that's been dug,
it's messy.
then the brush lifts,
the smoke slowly rifts,
into your imagery.
all is hell,
fairly swell,
when born heavy.
paced.
stallions running, and pacing.
know that the herds will keep chasing,
but stop once the green earths come to an end,
they’ll pause and turn at the narrow bend.
blue skinned.
the purple-pink haze has settled.
your blue boy image now tattered.
cerulean skin slowly peeling,
white hot scars are revealing,
your blue-yellow soul in the clearing.
penpal.
when your paragraphs turn into a sentence,
the once loud space now left with deafening silence,
does this mean it’s over?
when i struggle to look interesting,
and i find you slowly retreating,
i guess it is over.
but i still write you a letter,
and keep checking for answers,
i kind of wish it wasn’t.
orbits.
chlorine skies
all purple and blue
burning my skin away
eating my soul like the devil
leaving me floating here astray
oh deep darkness, i pray
that the world won't end with me
lost in space
lost in the darkness
that no one will go to
i don't want to keep on seeing stars
that don't see me
i don't to want to float here alone
i don't want to be here
alone
bleached souls.
souls dipped in chlorine,
bathing us from the color
we stained ourselves in.
ridding our limbs
from each others' memory.
bleaching our skin
from each others' misery.