Your heart, my piece of clay

he whispers.

A vessel of love and light

that he walks right alongside. 

Dance with me on the waves

he whispers.

Your feet leave the ground to meet the surface of stillness.

There he listens.

Open your hands

he asks so gently.

Your fingers unfurl and your palms lay open to the sun.

Reflecting ripples of light off the water bene...

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Night’s a brittle song. Silver, and thin,

which shatters into a billion fragments of quiet shadows.

Waking with a start to the blaring jazz

of a morning sun.

Morning's a tender verse. Vast, and brilliant,

which makes a golden star on every cracked window.

Sunflowers shining with dew,

counting the steps of the earth.

It was inbetween where his eyes shone like cold ...

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I waltzed out my front door this morning.

My neighbors walked,

or jogged,

But we all smiled,

because everybody smiles,

when you’re waltzing.

A girl in red rubber rain boots,

wide eyed and soaked with wonder 

makes the dull, dreary din turn to music. 

The traffic is her symphony,

and she is their conductor. 

The cars bob & float on the baton

as they pas...

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When I met the summer sea,

I was standing on the edge of nowhere.

It was a sort of seabird sense of humour,

when the world was new.

All was dripping in the sun.

Salty young silhouettes on old scars.

Sunflowers lifting faces to the sun

their divinity mirroring his.

A breath of wind,

which ripples the reflection of an usual sky.

I became accustomed to the ligh...

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When they see me, they won’t see the cracks.

Sealed up like sunlit stained glass 

They’ll see only them.

Not this past.

I won’t be the person I was before it happened

And I won’t be the person I was because it happened.

I’ll just be me. 

The truth?

Ever since I couldn’t find that one word no.

I’ve been trying to come to terms with myself,

Reintroduce me...

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You say you hate to fall asleep on the phone.

It doesn’t give you “closure”

I'm starting to know what you mean when this,

this feels like falling asleep on the phone.

Like when I think about you there’s still a poem.

And I want so desperately to not need you but 

sometimes I want to draw you into my notebook.

This feels like openness in its worse sense.

Like ...

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I miss you like daylight

Warm and inviting

Flowers stretching their arms to meet your sky 

I miss you like the ocean misses its sense of calm

Like a tide, gentle and restless 

always coming just to leave again

I’m driving home and suddenly

I can’t remember which direction you used to go to take me home

But I would always end up there

You always brought me ...

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i don’t know who numbed love for me first

was it when you took it from me and gave it to someone else?

was it when my someone else was just in need of a warm body?

maybe it was when i saw that all you’d feel for me you’d already felt 

was it when i realized bed sheets and everything in between

were most always misused, and all vanity?

was it when i realized when i love ...

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I believe if we knew love as more than four letters,

perhaps when we met her, we would let her stay.

I believe when we all know her on a first name basis,

she will still somehow look like hundreds of faces.

I believe that where love is,

there healing also dwells.

In the little house that is so often driven by.

The very thing that hurt me, healed me.

So I...

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Here’s my poem for you, my today.

You are my sunlight squeezed shut eyelids in the morning.

My mellow, midday sadness like breathing in heaviness.

My shivering fingertips, quivering lips as what used to be my favorite,

falls white and blinding like loudness expressed in cold.

You are my warm days turned to exhaustion,

beating on me like anger and a sickness for home.

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Your absence has me looking at the stars.

Pulling the absence of gravity into my line of vision,

wishing it to reach my heart.

So the absence of gravity can keep my heart from falling.

Your absence has me writing songs.

My fingertips heavy on the frets.

The sound of steel scraping wood,

and bad shaping good.

In this concrete, undefinably permanent

infinitely hu...

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those sunsweet mornings

evenings romanticized by some unseen certainty

moonlit nights sipping seconds with undeniable ecstasy

tear from me this moment why don’t you

this time I had to love you was never mine

counting down, your dark eyes turn pale blue

this innate part of me, parts with bared teeth

clenched jaws, white knuckles and teary eyes

if I hold on

will ...

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How melancholy are we now.

Your ghost heart beating so slowly,

I tell you things but they don’t make a sound.

How tired, how tired you are.

I meet apathy under your eyes.

How intangible is the light from the stars.

What is it to you now?

Is it silence, is it that I look into your eyes and see stone.

At what heartbeat of the clock did absence meet your bones?

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Far be it from me to write what I’m unsure of.

But this much I understand.

What I was sure of was your hand in mine.

I may not be one to know the art of moving forward

much at all anymore.

Everything comes back to you in some form.

I can’t sleep without seeing you in my dreams.

I can’t even drive on the road next to my house without seeing where our feet touched concrete,

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Today, my soul feels restless.

But for me that's just today, 

for you there's not another day to feel any other way. 

Besides breathless. 

God I want so badly to help you.

Please come back for just one moment

so I can help you.

Somehow we lost you in the laughter.

We didn’t think you could be hurting.

You loved just hard enough.

If I pulled the sun back...

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I was never sentimental enough.

My thoughts always matched your words.

Never bold enough to speak them,

my arms were always cold enough for you to hold them.

Sweetness escaping your lips,

in the form of syllables.

Mine struggles to respond,

but my heart feels full.

These are the things I can only say in poetry.

And now I regret not saying them into your ocean e...

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Your lips are tender to the touch,

tender to the touch.

As if silence amounted to lust

and sound to “not enough”.

Skin on skin but not nearly close enough.

I want to run my finger over your thumb,

over your thumb.

And right over the mistakes I made so stupidly blinded

by the clouded sun.

We sat in a coffee shop and it started to rain.

You ran outside an...

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Your fingertips slide effortlessly across my skin

as if they were made to begin and end there.

Makes me wonder.

Your lips delicate, every warm, familiar place.

Beneath my chin, the tip of my nose,

trace my bottom lip like a sweet red rose.

The innocence of lightness.

My breath tightens.

Like an ocean wave licking the shore.

Sliding over sand.

Slow it do...

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Do you remember,

how it felt to be in love with him?

When the words from his lips

were like honey to yours.

Don’t you recall

the way it felt to hold her in your arms?

When the sight of her smile,

made you believe love was a thing that endures.

Remember when you used to love the sighs he let out in his sleep?

You used to adore his barefoot driving,

his t...

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It’s funny how everything is yellow.

At least when I’m next to you…

But on the drive home,

everything is tinted blue.

And it’s not because I’m leaving you.

I’m looking in my mirrors,

and my imperfections at loving seem a little closer too.

You wanted so badly for the flowers to be alive.

Forgetting all the thank-yous’ and i’m sorry’s,

jumping to I need you and…

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A poem.

Like a cavernous room,

like an echo off the sound

of a heart breaking in two.

A poem.

Like a song.

Like lemon trees and clean sheets

Amongst the brighter things.

A poem like a riptide.

Like shallow breathing,

like rapid sinking

like sand scraping hand

like water beating land.

Like thinking…

A poem.

Like a good morning text.

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I hold him close and lean into his whisper.

His thoughts like the place where heart and soul collide,

I feel his heart, beneath the wall he puts up sometimes.

And in the quiet,

the best kind of quiet,

I listen for the wanderings of his mind,

should they ever pass my door.

For when the sun rises the next day,

I fear he’ll find the brighter things than me.

I worr...

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We fell apart so effortlessly.

Like snowflakes from a cloud.

We looked like we were floating,

but reality was the ground.

We came to pieces.

Like leaves withering in fall.

Our hearts and our heads,

got mixed up in it all.

We lost our color.

Like paint drying in the sun.

We didn’t mix the right way,

thus the breaking had begun.

Is this a sad story?

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Weren’t we always taught from day one,

that as soon as we see the moon,

there goes the sun.

Well don’t you think we’ve been staring at the moon too long,

knowing there’s a sun?

Knowing the something out there, is a something that’s bright.

And maybe our planet is dark,

but I have not failed to notice the hidden light.

The lights in the eyes of a laughing child,

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What of the writings of laughter?

What of the humble ramblings?

The vain attempts to expound something

so small,

so soulful,

they only write what happens after.

What of the thought of laughter?

Of remembering the soul shaking,

of heartwarming,

stomach aching.

Of teary eyes and the best way to lose the quiet game.

They skipped to the next chapter.

What ...

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The running out of blank space

in my notebook,

leads to the running into blank space

in my head it took.

What should be written,

is done,

and what shouldn’t,

remains locked away in my thoughts that tend to run.

And there’s a certain lost feeling,

one gets when they have no more poems to write.

It’s not that I can’t see the beauty

in you anymore,

o...

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I yearn less for you to touch my skin,

and more for you to touch my heart.

Because I must admit,

it was your soul that drew me in.

And while I wouldn’t mind,

being wrapped up in your arms.

Perhaps I could be wrapped up in your heart.

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They told me,

life would its have ups and downs.

But lately its been winding down,

to more of a flat road.

I’m sure you’ve heard, the one you’re on so long,

you forget where you’re going, it goes on so slow.

Stories of,

great revelations, heart wrenching trials,

some wonderful epiphany.

Self-discovery and all of its battle scars.

They promised,

I wou...

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I met a boy who was a square.

All edges:

on the edge of catastrophe,

on the edge of addiction,

on the edge that we often stand on,

at least once,

contemplating the distance to the ground.

Then I met a girl who was a triangle.

She was three people in one.

She was the girl who partied too hard,

whose wrists were often scarred.

And the package of “I’ve got it all...

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