Poetry

On the horizon is nothing,

But change. 

And this is a nothing

That encapsulates

Everything.

Looking to the future,

The sunsets are a cold

green and blue and purple 

When I was 12,
My favorite pair of shoes
Also happened to be my only pair of shoes.

I liked that they were so old their soles were coming
Off of the actual shoe
Because I had walked that much in them.

Did you know that
A mayfly lives for less than a day?

Maybe this is selfish of me.
It probably is.

But I'm weak.
I can't handle death.

Not that I'm not thankful for being here
But I'm weak.

How do you know when you love someone?

I'm not talking about being comfortable around them
Or enjoying their presence.
I'm talking love love.

Some of us live in our own bubble world.

Eat, sleep, drink.

 Live, don't die, don't worry, don't care.

Move on.

They ignore, ignore, ignore, trying so hard to live their lives without strife.

The late nights usually surrendered to sleep

Are instead spent rolled over on our sides

Eyelids weak and the arms that hold up our heads weaker

As we run rivers of words out of our mouths.

Friendship,

Friendship is a wonderful, beautiful, amazingly quirky thing.

It’s meeting for the first time at a random place with no expectation of getting to know anyone, until comes a simple, “Hello.”

When I am trying to fall asleep

You are all I think about

Aside from the lights flickering and the washing machine humming

Nothing can take my mind off of thoughts of

Secret kisses and

Falling asleep on your chest

Holy sun

Engulf me

Charm me

Along with the wings of those who burned before mine

Burnt feathers

And curiosity

Always smell of a man who wanted

More.

Combine in a large metal mixing bowl:

One wooden spoon or ladle, tucked underneath your pillows

before bed. One pair of old pajamas turned inside out

(backwards may be substituted.)

I used to curse the snow

used to fight every tradition about snow days

in denial

I would wake up early and get ready like I could

prevent it from happening

well the snow still fell

the roads still closed

I was made of fire 

before the roses blessed me

I was made impure 

before purity chose me like

I was some kind of tortured angel

I used to be bad

the worst