I'm sure the obscurities of the lenses clouding my vision
Are nothing more than a hologram of the world I never knew
But always thought existed in the window panes of my brain

The outside world my thoughts are too afraid to venture
For the warmth in the home of my realistic perception
Is the safe haven of who I am and what I know
And going outside my homestead into the dark forest of the things
That are undiscovered to my left but known all too well by my right  
Are what excels my lenses to constantly change when the room is the same tint of light

Transitions from one thing to the next don't necessarily need to have a change one can see
I feel the forest calling me as if I'm some bewitched prophecy
But the foreboding dank blackness that thickens my view
Has always stopped me from entering into the unknown of my own self

These hazy retractions of light may cast dark shadows
However right now my mind is a whirlwind of calamities that can only be tranquilized
By venturing into the unknown darkness inside of me

This time these obscured lenses draped over my glass orbs
Create a tint similar to what is within the forest
My transitions are nonexistent but all the more in constant motion behind closed curtains

So my first steps out of my safe haven are slow
The door creaks like an old mans rusted weathered body  
And I feel the pang of hysteria hit me as the outside air tests out my foreign skin

When I enter the blackened forest I begin running into what I have never known to my left but know so well in my right
The nightmare-conjuring mysteries of this realm are ready to be battled.

If symmetry is formed
from disaster

If life is always
ever after

Then why
Dear friend
do you worry still

Why, my friend
have you not had
your fill

Of pain, of stress
of the worlds dismay
All set up
so your mind won't rest

I tell you friend
you need not despair
For life is greater
without fear

She said "how do you have the audacity?!"
I felt her words, tearing, blasting me
words cut like shards of glass to me
as if desert sands beating on my weathered skin
I feel her composure wearing thin
water droplets become the tell tale sign in her eyes swelling
hands violently flapping in the air in tune with the yelling
her motions far too compelling
bringing troubled thoughts to my eager mind
eyes search to find my way out
no neon arrows point to my escape route
I must bear the brunt
of what I had done
never expected her to try and tear down the sky above
When I finally, after so many years expressed to her my love...

Forbidden because a number,
Wanted still the same,
How to finish this picture,
If you don't add a frame?
A painters dream,
No longer there,
For this picture is forbidden,
Nothing in life is fair.
Little by little,
The painting comes together,
The artist can see it coming,
Starting to feel better.
How can something like this affect the value?
Any painting of any age,
Is still a painting,
Colors on a page.
The artist doesn’t care anymore,
Paint on the paper,
Draw out love and let your worries turn to vapor.
All you have to do is add the final touch,
I wait here patiently,
Now all you need is to add the frame,
Together we will be.
You have painted courage, devotion, strength...
your angel from above,
those things are what make
our forbidden love.

There is a gust of silence
            Outside my window
                Calling my name
                Wondering how much
                .               I'm missing you.

I am the moon child that roams free
Senselessly in the starless nights
While you are all that's Earthly
Only occasionally glance up at the sky
Still, I love you,
And would rather be the dust floating in the silvery moonlight,
Just to be close to you.

(Just found this poem of mine from last year reposted on instagram without credit, and a pronoun changed)