Tag: spilled thoughts

Your smile like the ocean

So soft and so deep

Is a song

Of all the things

That I have been

And all the scenes

I’d watch again.

I’d save our reel

Till I’m asleep

I’d play our movie

For all my dreams

Till my pages are mere paragraphs

Sentences,

Mere fragments of what they once were.

Letters cast like dice in a hollow chest

Rattle off ribs

Stripped clean of anything to keep warm

Fresh ink staining the underside

Imprinting our story

For generations to read hereafter.

I’ll gather up the bones

And wrap them around us again

So we can see what we have built

Within these beating hearts

We call each other’s own.

Lying Awake

Before I met you,

I was used to lying awake

Hoping sleep would take me

As quickly as she could,

Wrapping herself around my fears

And choking my shuddering breaths

Until they were lost in quiet rhythm.

I wanted to let gravity bind me,

Slam me against a pile of pillows

And let the consciousness seep out

Until everything became muddled and blurred.

Now that I’ve met you

I am fighting her hold on me,

Lifting my eyelids

Like thousand pound weights

Dragging me to the depths of the sea.

I’m stretching against the jealous lover

Rowing myself through her beckoning waves,

Which once called me their own

Wanting nothing more,

Than to take away our time.

So though I may seem groggy in my smiles

Or miss my first three alarms

I would not have it any other way.

I Hate

I hate being the clingy one,

The one always in need of more love,

In need of validation constantly.

I hate my leaking heart

That pours out loudly

And creaks at all hours of the day and night.

I hate my aversion to silence

As everything echoes inside of me

To the point that I am suffocated,

As soon as I open my mouth.

I hate my anxious thoughts

That berate my soul and shave off any growth

Leaving nicks and bruises sensitive to the touch. 

I hate these things,

But I know who I am.

I am not these things.

I am the heart that loves so much

That it wants such love in return.

I am the one who validates so fiercely

I can only expect the same.

I am the one who speaks so many kind words,

I should cultivate to my ears similarly. 

I am always anxious for others’ growth,

I should be able to have my own. 

These are not selfish things.

Summer Gaze, Autumn Haze

She loves the feel of soft things,

Summer heat kissing her skin

With constellations,

Tesselations of conversations

Each reflecting in on themselves

Folding within her heart

Then reaching outward

Emptying themselves in her mind.

She compresses sadness and anger

Until joy seeps through

Straining the dark against the light

Until light cloud cover and storms

Stream through

Threatening to drown

Even this impossibly strong swimmer.

Her mouth is open

Her arms outstretched for something,

Somewhere worth being herself

With no delusions of value

She reflects her inner beauty

Her work, a refracted cascade of light

Seizing shadows and arresting hearts

Putting into motion a life

Greater than the sum of her experiences

And silencing forever the voices

That tell her she can’t.

There’s this lovely,

 Pulsating,

Breathless light in my chest

 And it resonates a little more

As I get to know you.

 You seem to exist in-between the moments

Of exhalation.

 Of Inhalation.

I get these ridiculous butterflies

 From merely typing your name.

And I’m finding it so much easier

 To be a better me,

Because you exist.

A Heart Stuffed

My heart is full of words

And I’m chewing slowly,

As to not choke

Or have them catch in my throat.

My heart is full of words

And I’m mumbling between beats,

Wiping off the excess phrases

Dripping down the sides.

My heart is full of words

And everything is mashed together,

A conglomerate of silent whispers

Deep fried in slippery doubts.

Listen to them crunch,

Breaking between each breath.

My heart is full of words,

Just waiting for you to hear them.

His tongue is littered with apologies

Lips practiced in sowing regret

Where hearts spoke out of turn

And souls snapped back with silence.

His eyes, hollowed by grief

Are tragedies mute as death’s laughter

Echoing to the point of cacophony,

Then choking on nothing but air.

His throat is parched for relief

The cool touch of recollection

Unmarred by the recitation

Of a past unyielding to change.

I long to be the warmth beneath your skin

That dull ache in your bones

That breath you can’t quite catch

The one that sits in your throat

Just out of reach.

I long to be the grass underneath

The rock where you rest

On the blanket that shelters your thoughts

Under the tree filtering harsh sunlight

On a cloudless afternoon.

I long to be the sky overhead

Open to all of your words

Shouted and whispered

All at once both captive and free

Boundless and restricted

Unearthed and undiscovered.

I long to be your midnight indulgence

The best kept secret,

Even from yourself

And yet, the one you’re endlessly proud

To call your own.

I long for contradictions to be made plain

Intersecting forces to quiet harsh tones

And for conflicting voices to see reason

This is no time for folly

Hearty foolishness is not welcome here.