04/19/2022:
i had no reason to stray from my path,
so i grabbed a twig and drew a circle.
this was my space; that was yours.
i can see outside, but you can't come in.
i walked and walked on its outskirts,
as a quiet but comforting routine,
and i was content for the longest time,
until i turned and there was no lock.
it wouldn't have bothered me
if i had no one to invite inside,
to show my cracked trinkets,
to share my crooked laugh with,
but i knew too well that people like me
simply felt too small for these things.
inside looking out,
i've seen so many people pass by,
so it came as a surprise
when i wanted some to stay.
i saw you and something changed.
neither of us chose that;
i know, i know, i know,
but i have no regrets just the same.
gravity slowly pulls me farther away,
as wide-eyed as i am out-of-touch.
i remember people like me,
too small for these things,
with no circle to anchor me so.
when i lay my head, i feel guilt;
i know i don't have much to give,
but i'm not ready to go home.
05/06/2022:
i can't crystallize myself to be seen.
instead, i turned myself inside out.
you met a mess of inverted hues.
jumping across stepping stones,
getting more and more carried away,
i can't remember how my hands feel.
i wish i could hear your voice,
just so i can listen to a song
that's the same color.
i'm not sure how to show you
these blurs of light in my head
that remind me you're somewhere.
i would have been so happy to know you.
04/22/2022:
i forgot my first pet's name,
but i remember the jar it died in.
i started collecting other things
and cramming them into a jar.
beads, buttons, coins, rocks --
i wanted this jar to stay special.
but the more i filled the jar up,
the more it started to look empty.
i have another jar
for things that crawl around,
like technicolor maggots,
the eyes on the ceiling,
and feelings i don't want.
would it be wrong
to throw it against the ground,
to hear the glass crack and split,
to watch the water spill out,
to feel it cry?
it's already empty.
04/19/2022:
near the daylilies one afternoon,
i found a dirt-covered music box.
i didn't know how to open it,
but i still wanted to hold it close
and listen to what it had to sing.
if it never sings a song again,
i'm still happy i brought it back home.
you didn't know why i had kept it,
but like any boat worth harboring,
most waters are worth more than their words.
the most meaningful moments to me
are the little things frozen in space.
yes, the devil is in the details,
and i don't mind losing the forest
for the trees we can sit underneath.
11/02/2018:
poppies graze your hair and throat.
in veins crimson crystals float.
air thickens; a storm blossoms.
thunder strikes microcosms.
angelic ichor lays bare
beneath your dazzle and snare.
?:
the reflection in the sea
of the sun staring at me
shimmers as mercilessly
as your clear divinity.
?:
greater than every storm of jupiter
and every ring of saturn,
you are more than breathtaking.
i swim in a sea ot stars,
and when i come up for air,
i know you surpass any breath i take.
?:
she is the sunshine that pierces rainclouds.
she is the rainbow that appears afterwards.
she is a prism and a beam of light,
and she is the morning dew.
she is gravity itself,
and her name is lily (you)!
11/01/2018:
i'll drag you back to whence you came,
'cause an angel you were born.
a ghost you might remain forever,
but paradise won't scorn (you for it).
11/01/2018:
about you stars whisper in broad daylight.
they know how heavy hearts can grow at night.
birds remember when you left the seaside.
the shells you forgot fear your darkest tide.
10/18/2018:
see its whispers and hear its gaze;
the swelling tide of eyes feel you.
crystal cameras watch intently;
passing angels stare so gently.
no pleas are needed in this haze;
the swelling tide of eyes make do.
