I wish love was like looking in a mirror,
Like seeing what you already know staring back at you.
I looked into your river, expecting to reflect.
Instead I saw a dried up bed.
And now I can’t get out of mine.

Those moonrise eyes, that darling stare.
You could glare at me all day, I don’t even care.
Smile like violets, laughter like beer,
My head swims when you’re far away, scuba-dives when near.
Walk the streets of superficiality with me,
And we’ll roll our way downhill until we love ourselves to sleep.
I’ll love you straight to sleep.

In deep raincloud days and the nights we can’t sleep,
I remember the night of July 15th.
In worlds we didn’t drift like sailboats at sea,
Under blankets it’s your arms that cradle me.
Maybe someday you’ll look into my eyes with love,
Like you used to, giving kisses instead of a shove.
Or maybe these chords will mean nothing someday,
As you go with the wind into a distant bay.
Sweet harbor, sweet harbor, fading with time.
I was lashed to your deck, and you tied to mine.
The sunshine was fleeting, the gray had been sent,
But it all changed so quickly, maybe it will again

Your shoes look like my father’s
Your smile feels like waking up
And when you are close to me
It feels like that’s enough.
Our hands weave like little baskets
Your skin is like the sky
Your presence alone is a drug
And I love being high.
When somebody says your name
My heart shakes a shudder
And when I think about you
I imagine we are lovers.
Your tears are little flowers
And there is ocean in your hair
And when I look out the window
The sun feels like your stare.
At night when I am dreaming
It feels like we are kissing
And when we aren’t together
I wonder what I’m missing.
This poem might be cliché
But I really ******* like you.
And I thought you also liked me
But I guess I thought too soon.

Every time I see you, my heart bursts open,
And all the blood rushes to my face,
Turning me crimson pink.
And your smile, God that smile,
It fills me up with beautiful.
I didn’t mean to fall, but ****,
I’m a clumsy girl I guess.
The way your lips so easily grasped mine,
In the crowd of the ***** basement,
428 Monroe Street, I couldn’t stop smiling.
And we were surrounded by rainbow lights,
And in the morning you texted me because you couldn’t sleep.
And you thought of me.
12:01AM, 11/11, one week later,
How things had changed.
And suddenly, few days pass,
And sadly, sadly,
How things have changed.
I want to understand sunlight with you,
Contemplate pillows and blankets and alcohol.
Dreaming and wishing and the way you made me laugh,
Oh, how I wish things had worked out.
And I have no idea where it all went cloudy,
Or why you just stopped caring so much.
But it’s done.
And you’re gone.
And it hurts.

All these broken snakes lie dreaming in their graves,
Of legs and arms and fingers, theirs to call their own.
They would make beautiful things, build up to the sky,
Such intricate limbs would they be to help save the world.
Lowly and quietly they trail the ground and cry,
Isolated and somber, just trying to get by.
Burned and buried in the ground, crying of frustration.
Kicked down by the fearful eyes, slaughtered with a scream,
Murdered by legs and arms and fingers,
The broken snakes lie dreaming of a different world.

Red blood painted on my hands, I kiss my father on the cheek. I mosey out the old front door, I’m eighteen and invincible. I rub the water on my face and on my eyes and on my soul, it’s all thawing but still ice cold beneath this makeup mask. I pretend to love, when really I don’t care. It’s just responsibility to treat these ******* with respect. The ice and snow of the world’s heart spread frostbite to my own. I’m guilty of not giving a ****, and I don’t even give a ****. Nothing is a shade of gray; it’s all purple to me. And I sink my teeth into the earth, biting down in crimson blue.
Smiles are for sinners and being ****** over is for saints. How do you think they all ended up martyrs? I’ve been bruised blue by this world, but it all secrets with this sapphire suit. I have no choice but to stay frozen, fearful to admit my wounds. I’m hurt, I’ve been hurt, I’ve been hurting for a while, but I’m scared to say it all and have to say that I need help. Writing makes it real and it ravages my mind. All I wish for is a fire to warm me up from inside out and reignite this empty furnace, strangled until it turns blue. Maybe the world doesn’t have to be rose or indigo or purple at all, at all. Someday I’ll smile with every color, the hottest flames inside my soul burning bright and blue.