It's her words, I think,
that turn the world into gold.
Or, perhaps, the way her eyes captured entire soliloquies
and her voice took on a hint of an accent
as buttery, honey-soaked verses slid off her tongue
and filled the springtime air with such ease
that I began to wonder whether it was truly a poem
or just the lyrics of the thoughts that painted her mind.

And I know I've known her for a while
in that half-smile sort of way
and the contemplation of a wave as she passed me by
but suddenly there was nothing I wanted more
than to talk for hours under the brilliant sky,
the one whose windswept clouds were palaces
with moats of the most cerulean blue.
Though the sky may have once deserved only a passing glance
it was transformed before my very eyes
as she whispered its secrets into my awaiting ears.

I wonder, idly, what the world would be like
if she sang its soul into existence
and there's a small voice in the back of my mind,
one murmuring that perhaps she already has
but we're all too blind to see it.

It’s not that I care about him,
Or that I liked him, at all.
It’s just that,
When he didn’t love me,
He made me feel unlovable.

So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings un-hallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sin's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule- altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

the words in my head
were buried too deep
for my poor mouth to dig up.
so,
for me,
it was easier to watch
as they ripped
my flesh,
begging for solace
through crimson tears.

in the city,
the stars burn with a lackluster glow
admiring us from above.
envious of the radiant beauty
you brazenly emanate.
-
and on the shore,
the tides rise closer to you,
their flawless turquoise
lifeless and dull
compared to the sapphire of your eyes.