With the loft,

stained touch of

the baking atoms of sun

who veil our skin

with its harsh woven glare.

We run partly apart

Yet lotion the layers

with hugs of suffice

and the spray of prayers.

Under

the umbrella of charcoal

ashing with tinsel

shredded in parts;

We halt our walk

and rest in each other's eyes,

while blushing in sapphire

throughout the night.

~

All you need is

one ray of light

to help you see

more clearly .

All you need is

one smile from a stranger

to help you walk

more lightly .

All you need

is the laugh from one baby

to put a smile

on your face.

All you need

is one cheer from a friend

to help you

finish the race.

All you need is

one cup of coffee

to help you

through your day.

So look out for that thing,

that one small thing

and you'll always be okay.

I see the darkness in you, and I am still here…

Paddling across your ocean with no life jacket other than the dim light of the north star guiding me to your heart, like a determined arrow aiming for

forever.

White sunlight casts upon closed lids

a fi'ry sunset glow,

as 'neath me fledgling grasses chill-

a paradox bestowed.

Ripe lilac breezes punctuate

the pressing troposphere,

plush purple wisps that twist and skate

through winter-ravaged nares.

Stout aster stems doth hold aloft

prismatic butterflies

with velvet tongues that seek the gloss

of nectar's sticky prize.

The plodding drone of laden bees

augments the brook's frore flux-

a limpid backyard symphony

'pon which my pith can sup.

we laid down next to eachother on the soft bed

and stared at the ceiling in silence.

i looked over at you and couldn't stop

the smile that sprang from my lips.

my heart beat slowed when you looked at me somberly,

not even the hint of a smile playing in your eyes.

i caressed the ring on your finger

and put it on my own.

your face displayed a pain like i had never seen before;

a pain i imagine only on a dying man.

you looked at me with rivers in your eyes

and said you made a mistake.

All one can do about life,

Not withstanding the setbacks or accolades,

Yell out your feelings, your desparations,

That's what I do when things turn south;

Hence, life rolls on with or without you,

In as much as most things will do,

Notwithstanding the occasional stroke of luck,

Goodness knows, anything can happen.

This old book that my friend stole from high school. He had a penchant for stealing things; Catcher in the Rye (two copies), a nylon-string guitar, loot from old lockers. It was all fair game, as long as you could get it home unnoticed. But this old book; The Lord of the Flies.

I just spilt some tea on it, a liberal amount. Accidental of course, but probably the best damage that can be done to a book. Darkened marks bordering the pages, still slightly damp, but soon to dry out and harden; soon to resemble a crispen old map. A lucky strike for the book’s next holder.

Some previous reader has neatly highlighted a passage on page 15. Not my friend; the highlighting is far too perfect, and the passage far too insignificant. Likely a notation by a young scholar, in search of critiqueable technique. Perhaps a guidance from their teacher; “Now I shouldn’t be telling you this, but these lines may help for your exam.”

We would clear out old lockers for detentions; cut off the padlocks with rusty tools that made us feel like men. Inside was a mystery, sometimes empty with nothing, sometimes empty with something. Items that are masked with the enchanting allure of discovery, but soon reveal the reasons they were left behind.

That nylon string still plays well. I strum chords inevitably when I wait in my friend’s room, as he puts on his tennis socks and for a few minutes I savour the refreshment of playing a foreign guitar; it always feels nicer than yours.

Baby, you don't pick up my call,

Leave my text on seen, why my baby doll?

Are you busy?

Are you with that girl?

Maybe you went with her to Disney.

I know the girl next door is pretty.

Did you go with her on a tour of the city?

Why do you decline

my face time?

Did you go, with her to the mall?

It is bothering me a lot.

Or you're taken by her beauty.

Maybe went on a movie,

And sushi

Or chilling in the Jacuzzi.

Baby, you don't pick up my call,

Leave me on seen why my baby doll?

Or maybe you're in a struggle

What if you're stuck in a jungle?

Or maybe you're kidnapped

What if you're attacked?

Baby, what if they slapped

your cute, soft cheeks.

What if you're trapped

In an elevator, building, or even your house

What if aliens invaded?

Maybe they kidnapped you and took to their planet.

Baby, just pick up my call,

never leave my text on seen baby doll.

It's not you and me, it's we.

Thank you for letting that be.

Thank you for holding your sign.

Thank you for standing with my kind.

Thank you for believing in change.

Thank you for believing that we are the same.

Thank you for being there, when it truly mattered.

Thank you for standing up for those that were battered.

Thank you to all of the cultures and races.

Thank you for being there to show all the serious faces.

Thank you for letting that be.

Truly, It's not you and me, It's WE.

Alternate title: I wrote this at the pool.

I am the girl in the purple towel by the pool’s edge

The one who should be swimming but she’s too scared to try

She wears her AirPods as a suit of armor to protect her from other’s opinions

Smiles halfheartedly at the ground when a good song comes on

I am the girl by the pool’s edge who hates country music

Who purses her lips

Grinds her teeth

Scrunches her cartilage up at the old boom box the owner plays FM radio from

Who doesn’t know who Blake Shelton is when he’s not at Gwen Stefani’s side

Who doesn’t care who Blake Shelton is even when he’s at Gwen Stefani’s side

I am the girl by the pool’s edge silently judging herself

While pretending to judge others

Staring at girls in too tight string bikinis

Scowling but wishing I was them

I am the girl by the pool’s edge who loves to complain

A mouthful of sunflower seeds and venom at the ready to spit onto innocent bystanders

Who wishes she stayed home

Who wishes that cheeseburger she ordered from the concessions stand would come sooner

Who hunches her shoulders over as protection from their stares

Who overthinks the amount of chlorine, urine, bleach, frogs, dirt, etc. in the pool

Who all it took was one mean comment to get her out of the water

Who grits her teeth and walks away when the whale like redneck men strike up conversation with her

I am the girl who is thriving on negativity

Who even though the sun baked potatoes in bathing suits they outgrew fifty years ago on their towels say I’m not having a good time

This is the best day I’ve had in a while

But while I am the girl who flashes her eyes at every stray voice that interrupts her music

I am also the girl whose lips twitch into a wide grin at every floaty wearing five year old that passes by

Who would’ve been just as bored, maybe more so, if she had stayed home

Who owes this to her parents

To stick it out

Get in the pool

Because for reasons that she can’t comprehend, her mother actually enjoys swimming in waste, chemicals, frogs, and sweat

And her dad just wants to see her happy

Something she hasn’t been for a while

While I am the girl by the edge of the pool who woke up hating the world

Tomorrow I will not hate the world as much

And it is a slight difference

But it matters

It is a slight change in my countenance to smile not scowl

But it matters

I am all of them

And none of them at the same time

Sad girls, mad girls, out-of-their- godforsaken-mind girls, depressed girls, smiling on the outside to conceal what’s on the inside girls

I will be all of them at the same time

Watch me