Expansive Emptiness

My lips are tired,
Of kissing the night air
Empty goodnights.
My eyes are tired
Of burning with the sleep
That lies within my bones
But will not come.
I'll play the melody
If you'll be the song.
If you'll be the rythym
My toes will tap along
Like the clackety-clack
Of the journeying train
That whistles goodbyes
To my lonely, tired nighttime
Stanza;
My desert without rain,
Sprawling the expanse of my empty,
White walled prison.

Coming to life is more than breathing.

I thought I was alive,
In that place where I was.
I thought I knew what it meant
To be.
But then came the meeting point of
being and Being
Between where I was
And where I am,
In the form of a radiant treasure
With two burning, emerald suns
That she falsely calls "eyes".
I have learned that I can only appreciate
Breath
By living breathless in her presence.
It was only in that moment,
The moment of contact between
A breathtaking jewel
And a breathless fool
That my empty breath became
Life.

Dear Emily, 
I love you,
Thank you for the greatest year of my life,
Always Yours,
Misfit.

Hair falls.

I love the way your hair falls.
You put it in a ponytail,
But a few strands refuse
To be captured.
They dance across your head
Falling around your ears,
And sticking up from your bangs,
And resting in two little curls
On the back of your neck.
Your hair is free and beautiful.
Just like your heart.

Dust

The razor words cut sharp,

And i turned to dust. 

I don't have the strength to be a man tonight,

So i'll just lie here 

Piled high;

Lacking courage to even take a breath.

Distressed and broken,

My soul is like a tattered sweater;

These words pulled my frayed ends 

To pieces.
Truth cuts past the bone and marrow
To a place in my heart I didn't even know
Existed.
A place of frayed and tattered dust.

Chasm.

The brink calls to me
As a yawning chasm of welcome.
The day presses heavy.
The night calls cooly
From behind the luminescent curtain
Of sun-rays.
Peel back the curtain,
Bring me sweet darkness
And silver starlight.
Open to me the canyon of
Drowning.
Open to me.

Gallantry rides a horse made of cardboard.

Gallantry rides a horse made of cardboard.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the only reason
Dashing princes wear alluring armor
Is so they can blind your eyes with the light
Of their own arrogance,
And shield themselves from vulnerability.

You possess yourself with an honourless view
Of knightly honour.
Armor shining,
Your prince attacks the horrid dragon.
You didn't see the blackened flagon
Of selfish ego he consumed with
Violent intensity.

Gallantry may have a quaking sword hand
Sometimes.
Not because he fears the dragon's
Fiery eyes,
Or because of the blinding, soul-binding hate
He hears from the scaly creature's
Cry.
He shakes because he sees you.

The dashing prince may carry himself
With perfect poise, and
Dashing dexterity
While i shiver on my
Soggy, saddled beast of burden.
But gallantry does not cover itself in
Unscathed armor,
Rather, it destroys it's armor to
Become vulnerable for you.

Dusty Ruins.

I built cathedrals in my heart.
I made the spires perfect.
I polished the golden wood altars
Until they sparkled like the moon.
It was only then that I heard
The empty wind howling through
The hallways.
The emptiness rippled
And shook the deepest of depths.
My cathedrals fell,
But it was then,
In the dusty ruins of my experience
That I found you.