Your beauty never scared me
Only invited me to brave new worlds
Like riding on the crescendo
Let the pictures in your mind roam clearer,
Let music be the master of your love.

He's the kind of guy who wants to color your mind
And the tides are creeping in...

Giving into love
Because something calls to you
Forfeiting your god
Because the promises feel true

Throwing yourself at life
Rather than letting it pour into--
Letting yourself drown
Through and through

He’s the kind of guy
That could color your mind
And he thinks you’re a special kind of girl
Who will bend in time
Like flowers to the Sun
After the rain has had its run

I know my heart, it lives in tandem with my soul
One incessant beat that never stops.
I write for the things I love,
the things that you can’t face.
I write for dreams- yours and mine—
memories of our best days that we’ve come to mourn.
You say I am too dark and too negative
but I walk among it all, the only beacon the night may ever know.
I am a lonely candle in the dark, but I do not wane.
Take a look at your life and your lovers
Take a look at your strife and your vices
Leave me at nighttime, take your false prophet of a Sun with you.

There’s a new moon in Aries, 
So staunchly cardinal I can feel it pumping through my veins.
New beginnings, rebirth, new flesh, clear eyes.
Lifted out of the manger and sat on the ground, I am learning how to stand up again.
I think the fire burned me to the ground, so scorched that there was nothing left of me.
I grew out of the ashes, not like a phoenix, but like a flower.
Self-leaning, self-sustaining: photosynthesis.
There’s a new moon in Aries, and my clothes don’t smell like your wooden floors anymore,
or the dank corners of your closet, left to wonder what else was hidden in there.
I smell different, maybe the way I did before everything had happened.
No man can keep me together; maybe I'm broken,
but only I alone can rebuild myself. Only I can understand this new scent I’m putting off.
There’s a new moon in Aries, and though you gave me light, I didn’t know it came from fire.
I hold peace and resilience in the fact that we are halfway to Libra season. 
May the next cycle of Libra be kind to me, because I am now ready to come home.

I know my heart is true, because no matter how hard I try to fight it, it resurfaces
It comes up like the butterflies you try to swallow down when you’re nervous—
Like when you’re flying solo for the first time, so eager yet so scared.
I know my heart is true, because it sings itself into the hums of a stranger
Like the open strings you mistakenly strum when you’re just learning how to play.
My heart sings out, wanting to find its place, hoping it will be accepted—
Like the first day of kindergarten, wondering if they will all laugh at you,
worrying if your teacher will be kind to you.
I want to be seen, to be loved, to have someone know I was real and existed.
I want my name written down in the book of existence, not smudged or drawn over with white-out.
The age-old boulder we all carry, the cross we bear that bores its splinters into you perpetually.
To truly know love for what it is, is a gift few of us receive, but we all chase after.
Running after it like the airport shuttle you just missed, like that extra hour of sleep you wish you had gotten.
Looking for it, turning our pockets inside out, only to find loose change.
Fate will find you like the reflection you instinctively dash over in a puddle, always with you, whether you stop to look down or not.

“In the abundance of water
The fool is thirsty.”
Wise words for a young man
too blind to see the cruxes of his dreams.
Death and deceit lie hanging in the air
as we all clung to his feet
It was like the world collapsed underneath,
And my eyes couldn’t even procure a gleam.
I remember your eyes were blue and open
And you yourself were a reem
It’s all over now, and my tears slowly start to stream
Remembering what I thought true love could be.

I look to astrology to see the spindles of my fortune unfolding and spinning around me haplessly.
I want to see where it all went wrong, and to make wishes upon personal falling stars.
Take me away from this lonely house and transport me to the next
I want for the future, not of potential delicacies but of unfurling karmas, coming to their ragged ends.
I care not for Venus in the First house, nor Libra stelliums or abundance in the Second and Third.
I dream through Cancer in the Twelfth, drowning in my own soul.
Sun Square Chiron, arrow to the being, tearing all tendons connecting to the brighter side of life.
The blood flows out of me, pooling at my feet, staining the carpet around me,
Like the nosebleed that woke you up as a child that you somehow never forget.
Will you swallow all of your pride and dim all of your light, or swim to the surface with all of your might?

The clouds in the sky run clearer
Days last longer
My heart beats heavier
But my reins are broken nonetheless
Free to chasse amongst greener grasses
Over clovers, four-leafed and full of soul
Shedding gross membrane, shrinking back to a foal
I am free once more, with much more peace in store
Though the rain falls, it does not crush me
But rinses the pain of rebirth off instead.

Was I the cool breeze that rattled your bones,
Not strong enough to put out the fire that coursed through your veins?
Were my screams and cries of a wanton love expelled in vain?
Was I too foreign, too strange for your hearth to be my home,
Too tired to give, just angry enough to lie on cold tiles; contort and moan?
Did I beg too much like a child, red-flushed face only there to disgust and beguile?
Who did you see peering back at you with dull, glazed eyes-
Ghosts of women past or barren wombs of future?
I think I am the evil one, but maybe you were.
Scars lace my soul like threadwork, weaving me back together like sutures.
I’m sorry I never held the matches to incinerate you, my fire-moon lover.

How do you move on, from the past year,
as you shed your skin and try to grow a new one?
Will I cast myself in the hearth of desire
Ignite till there is nothing, no one left,
and rise from the ashes?
They tell me be patient, kill the old version of yourself, then regroup.

Become one so strange, so new
Maybe incineration is my clue
I will go scorched Earth, forget all traces of you.
We all know there is another me, another girl,
The new “new.”
Regrowing myself is all I can do
And that says nothing about me, but more about you.

Do you hear me, whispering through like radio waves,
Like the current of the river that runs between us?
Does the sound of my heartbeat echo through the canyons of loneliness?
Do I send my spirit unto you? I want to know, because I can’t find you either.
I listen for you in the rain, I look for you in the harsh gleam of the concrete,
But maybe it’s in my best interest that you were washed away.
Maybe I like that you got swept in the undercurrent.
Mostly, I don’t think you care. 
Not to say that doesn’t shatter my heart like a mirror
And I am now petrified of the next seven years,
But I know that I rest your image on the shoulder of my soul.
Maybe you’ll stay there, maybe you’ll hitchhike your way back out.
If you do, that’s alright. Loving the wrong person does not have to be a blight.

Treat me right, because once I was a child
And I still hold her tight when I sleep alone
When everyone else is wild
I have my freedom, which I need to see
right in front of me, don’t let it vanish.
Don’t tear me apart, like pages in the book of existence
I have no heart, only soul, 
And I see the world through all of your wishes.

It’s all up to you
It was only ever you, for a while 
misconstrued and beguiled

Thousands of hours of waiting
Meek yet wild in your image
Tears of your longing stolid and straining
Carrying beguilement inside my soul like the ultimate adage
They say "you're too volatile, too wild"
Yet so weak all the while

Your soul left everything on fire
And I was just a misty mire
Would you step into the canyons of my loneliness,
Or complain that the terra run too high?
You could have been the one if you had tried
But you were never going to, and that’s fine.
Thing is, I will store this love until I die.

Can you hear the wind, feel its call?
Or will you run away from it all?
So strange, so new
Thousands of hours
Being strong just to meet you
And I do not walk away...

No prose, no poetry, no rhyme or scheme
But all reason
All you
If I had my life over, no matter how much I'd be a fool,
I would run back to you.
I wish for so many things:
That I had appreciated myself a little more
That I had done as you begged
That I could have trusted too.
I'm sorry I spoiled it all
I'm sorry I forfeit a love that I knew was true.
If I had my life over, I would spend it searching for you.

I went to New York
4 days I did stay
Everyone was beautiful
The streets were covered in a grease so gray
Men on the subway were bundled and scary
My smile was light and airy
And I didn't like it.

I tell you my soul is withered, my heart is frayed
I lie decrepit, imagining how still the world should have stayed.
Slithering and writhing over you, green vines forever tangling
Come now, pray to destiny for our fates to keep mingling.
I’ll cover my eyes, my soul forever, wrap my memory with wool.
Sit down, legs crossed like axes over your grave, perfect pool of gray.
Will convoluted words be good enough? Will they help you see?
What if I told you that your beauty was more than enough for me?

I miss you more than life,
More than the summer breeze coursing through trees, mimicking your hair
I miss your words, as they batter me like waves against the rocks
Like the hunger of a cold, cold day.
Your eyes rage, reflecting the light of an eclipsed Sun, singeing my soul like fire
I miss your Moon, earthy like soil and moss, covering and coaxing you to rest 'till the end.
But I do not walk away…
I would wait for hours, so strong yet so meek just to meet you,
And I do not walk away.

Mother, do you remember February?
The shovel we held tight to –– not to survive, not to breathe, but because it was all we had left to cling to after the fire.
I remember allotted spots in the earth, specific dates,
I was so prepared I could almost feel the wet soil leap onto my head -- I swear I felt it cover me.
We were all dead, stuck in hell, stuck in limbo.
I tell myself it was a dream, but all dreams are rooted in reality.
Were you happy with the life we had, before the fire coursed all around and consumed us?
We tried to scurry around it, like mice trapped and forced to live in the walls -- some innate wiring to survive, but no dreams to live.
I don't know what happened to us after. 
I wish we had all loved each other a little more before it all imploded.
I'm sorry I gave away all of my dreams -- I wish I had kept them. 
Every day, I wish I could have saved you. I wish I had a peace offering.

Saturn in the 12th house. Cancer, spreading like vines.
Tightening, fighting, pinching, and piercing for survival.
“Do unto yourself. You are your own master. Neither you nor I can kill what is already vacant.”
My soul, looming over the world, 
Taking all that it can, like a black cloud. 
I think I’d like to go back home now, to rest in the murderous shadows,
To not yet know self-loathing, but teeter on the edge of a total eclipse of the mind. 
I think I’d like to go back home now, to walk along that blank wall - not fortified by self or anything else, but by an omniscient eternal nothingness. 
I think I’d like to go home now, to go swim over the void, over the lives of Colette and Kimberley and Kristen. 
I think I’d like to go home now, because they’re the only ones who would know. 
Saturn in the 12th house, seeping into me like cancer. 
Pluto strays away like a lost dog. 5th house. 
I’ve learned to forfeit the life I would have really loved. 
Strife never had to creep up if it already had me locked inside its claws. 
Its talons have always had me pinned down. 

I let my brain go and join into the purple miasma,
I chased pleasure to every corner, though I didn’t know that it pleased me,
I learned to lay so still it burns pits into your brain like a drill until you’re lobotomized.
For 16 years I clocked into slavery and sin,
I rejected repentance and pledged my soul to Satan, the kindest beast,
I prayed to regret acknowledgement, all to promise a forfeit of “sorry,”
I made myself a tenant in the house of spies,
in order to forsake the knowledge of love,
I stepped over cobblestone paths and onto sacred grass,
I made sure to vow to spit on your grave,
I prayed to Absalom to never be tied down by one thing.

I saw gold dust exploding into the sky, spreading like a drug shooting through veins,
It reminded me of the soul’s nebula- once you die, nothing will ever be the same. 
I saw red, white, and blue in the sky, 
and I can’t hide the fact of the little bit that I did cry. 

Brittle, brittle ends, stolid in purgatory,
All encompassing knowledge of the wet leaves in the gutter,
Never surpassing to any more, nor any less.
I be your lover without heart, without soul, laid like spoiled hay under the manger.
“I am creating the life I want,” you affirm into my back, rising by your fresh heels;
My knees carpeting the earth like soot — unnatural and cancerous to all exposed.
I mutter a prayer for art as you dash for my dreams,
Because seemingly, dreams are harvested by the poor for the rich to live and exploit.
So while you dig thy holy polished heel into my back, I kiss the crud on the streets and whisper, “I always wanted to be a poet. I loved to draw and to dance. I thought there would be music playing for me forever.”

Smiles and nods and spindly legs
All of the love wrought all of the hate
If I know you’ll never read this, does that make me more or less dead?
Would the seasons change anymore than they are now that I’m leaving you?
My letters are as coherent as the state you brought me to and left me in
There was no green found in the quarry to muster up the courage to create
You won’t miss or regret me,
But still I sit like a lamb at your grave.