This is from a longer project of mine, but I really liked how this stanza turned out, and I think it kind of works on its own.

I flip through the first

Couple of pages,

Running my fingers over the ink

That contains drops of his heart;

Through metaphors

And twenty-six little letters,

He has given the sea of my life,

And the sea of Sam’s,

An entire new meaning

Full of beauty that sparkles

Like morning sun streaming

Through droplets of rainwater

Clinging to blades of grass;

His life,

Too,

Is written in these stars

Typed across these pages.

step outside

the breeze is blowing

wisps of cirrus cloud

the sky is blue

the geese are leaving

farewell

we say

and don't mean it

mean it please for once

the turning leaves will thank you

the frost has come

quietly along its hands bound

cut it free

run your hands through the asters

the goldenrod

the sunlight at the end of the street

always just around the bend

The moon hangs low tonight,

quiet as a thought not yet spoken.

Her light hovers over rooftops

and sifts through the cracks in curtains,

touching everything gently,

not to change it,

just to be near.

She doesn’t chase the stars,

or command the sky.

She drifts, slow and sure,

as if she’s always known the way.

The trees don’t reach for her.

They simply stand

and let her light settle on their leaves.

The wind hushes

as if not to disturb the calm.

She shines, 

but only with the light the sun gives her. 

She glows anyway.

Somewhere, someone is awake,

watching the same glow

thinking of nothing

and everything.

And the moon,

without asking for praise,

simply glows,

enough.

I'm tired of walking the same loop

Taking the same few steps forward

Just to walk the same steps back

I'm enamored with the way we were

Enamored with the things we swore

Yet I couldn't care less

About how our lives progress

Living in the past is a pain

Which is why I'm glad to say goodbye

To watch you leave

And watch you cry

You'd never understand

You'd never comprehend

Why I don't demand

When I don't follow the trend

The future doesn't matter

The past doesn't bend

But when I look at the present

My life can be penned

I'm the king of an ever shifting throne

The main character of a nonexistent tale

And you're just a memory

A good ole has-been

In the end

You're the then

And I'm the when

The red truck blue truck cap

Bright blue, not pretty

Like dancing eyes no

This is down to business blue eyes hardened

After too many people said no

After too many yesses didn’t work out

Red like ready for mud

Season when it’s not here

Like boots that are there

For puddles

It’s been too long since you jumped in.

I knew it

From a hundred yards away

Like a hundred yard stare

The old farmer type have patented.

And a peace sticker

On the back

That’s been there

Since back when

We thought peace would work

Instead of guns,

It’d hurt to peel it off now

Whether or not we’ve given up.

And she’d always tried

Waving at the bikers

That passed her

Gardening the kind that would feed her

Not just flowers for the eyes

Though she’s got those too.

And her white hair seems to be there

When you turn corners sometimes

And I know her truck

From a hundred yards away

And it’s red and blue with a faded peace sticker.

The rain reminds me of you,

the way it pours down hard and fast,

then slowly becomes lighter,

and lighter,

until you're gone,

leaving me with the puddles to keep me company.

The rain reminds me of you,

blinding,

and refreshing,

coasting my skin with a gentle touch.

The white noise of the droplets hitting the ground,

clearing my head,

while I sit by the windows,

and watch the beauty,

of the darkness,

spilling from the sky,

so I don't have to cry alone,

You remind me of the rain.

Lie awake tired, won’t go to sleep, regret it in the morning,

repeat. 

I try to break the cycle, 

but then something stops me.

Oh wait, it was just myself, again,

like always,

but I'm stuck and

I can't get out.

It feels like I don't even see the way out.

The end,

it's not in sight. At least not in line with my eyes.

My perspective is always a 

captivating, glowing screen,

greedily stealing my sleep, but I don't know

what it needs it for. I also don't know why I

stay online when my body tells me

to shut down. I don't know why I

don't listen when I can hear it

loud and clear, screaming through my

falling eyelids that I force to stay open for

just "one more video".

Curled up on my bed in the

same position as always, I keep looking back at

my clock thinking I have time and saying

"one night won't kill me" but really it's

every night and before I know it,

it will kill me and I'll be buried with a

cell phone in my hand and dried tears on my face

wondering why I didn't stop sooner,

but it wasn't a matter of why, it was a matter of how

because I always wanted the pain

to end, but it felt so good that I

wouldn't tell it to stop. Before I know it,

it's two in the morning and I've thought about

this for the last four hours while simultaneously,

and ironically, watching YouTube videos that

I don't want to watch, just to fill a 

void in my head and the minutes in

the hour that I could've spent sleeping with

my favorite stuffed animal. But instead I'm finally

getting up to brush my teeth and throw out my

empty pint of ice cream with some melted parts 

still stuck to the bottom that I was supposed to

clean out three hours ago but now I don't

have the energy because it's two in the morning and I

want to go to sleep. I trudge into the bathroom,

regretting my decisions like always, and stare in the

mirror, wondering what I've done to myself. I get back to

my room, close every drawer that my OCD-wired brain tells

me to, turn off the lights, and crawl into bed. My

alarm clock is staring at me, I can feel it, so I

look over and it's half an hour later and I

ask myself why it took me thirty minutes to

brush my teeth. I stare at the ceiling for a little while

longer, recapturing every moment I

hated that day, and remembering everything I

have to do tomorrow. So I finally shut my

eyes at three in the morning, five hours later, with

too much on my mind and my plate, but at least I'm

finally giving myself the rest I needed,

right?

Space has no voice,
no light.
The cosmos:
a cathedral
with no choir.

But I hear the galaxies

sing,

a medley of choruses
all at the same time,
with you by
my side.

You shatter
the emptiness.

You shatter
the quiet.

Until voices
rise above
each other,
harmonizing
in a familiar melody,
closing
the space
between
the stars
and the sky.

And 
when you are near,
even silence 
aches
with sweetness.

The void bends closer,
as if it wants
to listen
to your sound.

Your voice
outshines constellations.
Your breath
writes comets.
Every glance
becomes gravity,
pulling me deeper
than black holes
ever could.

Without you,
the heavens
are cold stone.

With you,
they burn alive,
and I long
for nothing more
than to orbit
this endless night
with you
forever
the music
and in the silence.