some day you'll say you need space.
but,
baby, i'd give you the whole ******* universe.

My stomach is a lake of red wine and pills that are supposed to make me feel better about my life.

They didn't.

My hands vibrate and clench themselves into fists that are sometimes full of my own hair.

My eyes are heavy and decorated by deep purple half circles from lack of sleep.

But

Sometimes my stomach is filled with butterflies,
and I silently hope they don't drown.

Occasionally my hands are in another pair of hands.
They're held like a prize.

Some nights my eyelids are kissed lightly to sleep.
My pupils dilate from the drugs,
and from that boy's love.

The white circles I swallowed every morning are supposed to make me feel better about life,
but I don't think any scientist, pharmacist, doctor
ever once anticipated the thought of another human being like him.

When we grow deeper with others down the path of our lives, we are bound to run smack right into pain. It's an inevitable experience of the human condition.

The alternative? It's just you stuck in a shallow abyss.

Twilight's melody rises
mournfully dressed in lilac hues 
she grieves for the glory of the primrose sun.

The rise and fall of waltzing starlings
mirror the final breaths of the day
as with glorious mirth they beckon to the silvered chill of the moon.

A day, not a day
without you in mind

Cannot comprehend infinity
without you in mind

For it is you,
this missing link
forever lingering
in my river of thought

I'm out on it now
fishing for that feeling

Of starlit midnight
with you in mind

State solo and ensemble is on Friday...
I'm terrified.

If I wrote you a love poem
would you clam up in choking modesty,
embarrassed by the still raw love that's been cooking but is yet to be served.

If I wrote you a poem of friendship,
would you retreat back into solidarity,
annoyed at the bluntness of my open soul.

If I wrote you a poem of mourning,
would you fill with resentment
at my supposed plea for pity

If I wrote you a poem of joy
would you counteract the skip in my step with a lag in yours
because enthusiasm is corny in large amounts

And if I wrote you a poem of desire
Would you avert all eyes back to the screen
because Romeo and Juliet is a bit outdated
and imagination has fled from the heart and away from its sensory outlets

Or…

If I wrote you a love poem
Would you beam with a smile that radiates from your eyes and cheeks and shoulders and knees
Because you need all the passerby to know of our love, wordlessly..shamelessly..

If I wrote you a poem of friendship
would you deliver me my favorite coffee,
pick me up to go on a road trip to anywhere

If I wrote you a poem of mourning,
would you hold me and give me the smiles and hugs
that I am temporarily and humanly void of..

If I wrote you a poem of joy,
Would you let my spirit set fire to yours
So we can dance around like idiots aimlessly

And if I wrote you a poem of desire,
would your body tingle and feel like its never felt before,
unsatisfied until our legs and tongues and hearts are entwined

Or am I too Disney?

if only there was a logarithm to solve for
how much of someone else is in you
and whether or not it's still you
when there's another there

we learn from each other, we do,
but how much is lessons and how much is
usurption? when does a soul cut into
yours, or does it just build on it?

I remember when I thought I wouldn't be whole
without someone, and I remember when
someone thought they couldn't be whole without me
so I agreed, and I left her as just a piece

who does this make me? what do I say I am
and in the eyes of God and all the angels and saints and people
whose eyes matter? which watcher can tell me?
where does it stop? When does it go?