This midnight Love poetry,

the constant exchange of
perfection
that only we,
united by words and moonbeams,
can understand.
The desperation to be Loved
and to live...
To run and run
during the summer dusk,
moonlight at our heels,
sunset glowing crimson in the darkness
as we blink.
Indigo skies and crystalline lies--
take my hand
and squeeze three times.

Caught

in the celestial tornadoes of
your words,
your looks,
your fingertips.
Lost and longing for
the pressure of your lips.
Spinning into a blissful oblivion
of Loving you at the speed of light,
hair flying back,
our eyes locked in an
imaginary waltz.
One two three one two three,
hold me 'til sunrise comes and fills the space
that you fill in the moonlight

Exploding into the hazy dusk,

folding in,
a flower in reverse...
Winter Fall Summer Spring.
Midnight plum petals,
reflecting the black holes that suck
light through your pupils.
Pupils surrounded
by sapphire iridescence,
terrible and tranquil.
Pearly teeth and pointy ears,
glass, crimson-stained words.
Sharp and malicious,
whistling and whispering through the air.

Your silhouette

stark against starlit blackness,
dark and shimmering
with a streetlight halo.
I'll run to you,
and press my face to your chest.
Breathe in--
my heart will weep at the scent
of lilacs and emeralds,
emeralds like your fierce,
glowing eyes,
locking me in a jade embrace.
Joining into a trio of
gorgeous stone
with your onyx lashes
and ruby lips.
Your ruby lips.

It's spinning and pure,

a white-orange, like sunset
hitting diamond silver snow.
On the horizon,
dancing with the moon--
tangible, musical...
Shining opalescence,
smooth to the touch
sweet and cold,
frozen spun crystal sugar...

She'll be the one with the tears in her eyes,

the one staring, infatuated,
at the tortured beautiful boy in the corner.
She'll be the one with the ink on her arms,
She'll be the one drumming her fingers
to the beat of those silent symphonies
that you're humming so far away.

It's sad when I think about it--

My mom makes me nervous. Like really, really nervous, and I hate it. I mean, I honestly don't think she's as much of a bitch as I've built her up to be, and I really do Love her. And I know she Loves me too, but it's hard when she's acting like... how she normally acts, to be honest. I mean, I have to talk to her about my math grade for god's sake, how easy is that? but still i know it won't be casual, it'll be like a Discussion, so i practically have BUTTERFLIES from the nerves. i mean, it's TALKING TO MY OWN MOTHER ABOUT SCHOOL, AND IM CHEWING MY NAILS AND KINDA-SORTA FREAKING OUT. how fucked up is THAT? i mean really. i should just stand up to her, next time she's awful [which will be today, because it's every day]. i mean, she doesnt abuse me, she respects my opinion on some level, and she's a nice person, mostly. so many people have it SO MUCH WORSE, mom-wise. i should just fix this, once and for all. i mean, it wouldn't be THAT hard to have a decent relationship with her, would it?

i'm an idiot.

but wish me luck anyway?

Jumping off cliffs, and watching them shrink

into the infinitely expanding, star-strewn sky,
all ice-crystal and diamond-edges,
feeling the wind's invisible ink
pen gorgeous verses and sing them softly,
only to you...
That ice-blue rush below your ribs,
freezing your heart, making it shiver.
An incomparable feeling, amplified by the tickle of the tears
streaming down your face, running through your open lips.

You're In Love.



Disclaimer-thing: The whole idea for this comes from a random Ray Bradbury quote in the introduction of a collection of his short stories-- "Why did I do it? Why did I keep jumping off those cliffs? The answer is an immense cliche: Love."

I know how invisible you think you are,

shrouded in self-doubt,
shrinking further and further
into the walls of that empty,
empty blackness that you've built for yourself.
I know how invisible you think you are.
But you're not, Lovely, you're not--
i can see you, lit up like goldshine snow,
shimmering in the soft, sharp firedust that falls upon you,
shifting and filtering through the dark,
showing how beautiful you are, how full of Love.
I know you can see that shimmer, Lovely,
and i know, i know that you think
you're the only one that can see it.
I know you think that it can only be seen
by those crackling amber eyes,
that it can only be acknowledged
by that tilting, spontaneous half-smile.
I know how invisible you think you are.
But Lovely, you need to know,
you need to know,
just how visible you could be.
When you see those twirling, eternal sun spotlights,
you need to stop thinking that they're for someone else.
They're for you, Lovely.
They're for you.

It would be better

if heartbreak was icecrystal
shattering against steel.
Instant, loud, dramatic.
Not this slow ripping,
this silent pain,
disguised by a mask of
poorly composed nonchalance...

Transfixed on the space where midnight blue melts to nighttime rose,

lost in the sunset flashing
off of sheet-ice windows,
mirrored by your fire
filled eyes.
Dancing shadows,
dark and flitting,
sprint under your eyelids,
blue circles of smoldering ice
chasing them from side
to side.

Stardust (if you're still reading this):

alrighty. so i'm totally being weird today, and i went back and read all of your comments. and then i found "an oxymoron that shouldn't exist, but does". you said it when you were talking about the sparkles in cement, remember?

and then, i was thinking, that in class yesterday, this kid was talking about blacklights.

an oxymoron that shouldn't exist, but does.

i n s p i r a t i o n

• light
• Love
• colors
• people
• you
• windown
• nighttime
• stars
• pens
• movement
• cars
• building
• time
• fountains
• coins
• music
• sounds
• lyrics
• writers
• strangers
• dreadlocks
• leather jackets
• photographs
• cameras
• lists
• keyboards
• freedom
• opinons
• dimensions
• words
• knowing
• blankness
• temperature
• happiness
• sadness
• why the fuck am i writing this?

So um.

I haven't written in a while.

It's a combination of a lot of things, but that's not important.

I'll try harder though, kay? Love you guys.

You were hovering in the snow-heavy clouds,

surrounded by crystalline flakes,
gorgeous, misunderstood.
You were shrouded in milky moonshine,
midnight silk and orgasmic starlight.
You were all the mystery of smoky jade eyes,
of galaxies rushing towards eternity...
And then you were words,
floating like smoke along the blinding skyline,
lilting and pounding in my ears,
a cracked mirror of intensity and beauty.
You were diamonds and feathers,
you glimmered and spun.
And then,
and then,
you were Love.
You were the webs of sugar,
the webs of smiles.
You replaced the salt, the tears.
The web of brilliant intoxication,
the web of frosted emotion--
It would take someone infinitely stronger than me
to escape from that.
The Love wasn't you, no. It was bigger.
It was light, it was color, it was sea glass and snow drops.
A flawed fairytale, a transparent masquerade.
But that Loveweb can't be unspun,
and I'm tangled, lost.
And you're tangled, lost, in the heartbraking sunrise,
the neverending nighttime.
It's a beautiful pain,
it's torture you crave,
brings tears to your shining eyes because
it reminds you that you're more than they
can see.
I can see you,
and my heart breaks every time I do.
Don't make it stop.

Hello, Beautiful...

Whenever anybody looks into my eyes and sees nothing but emptiness--and invisible and opaque grey, i blink. i think that if i blink away the solidity, the blankness, they'll see that it's fog. opalescent and haunting, they can peer right through to a golden honey sunset. a searing combination of crimson and silver, bronze and tangerine, the cotton candy pink, the cotton candy blue... they'll see, in the veiled sunset, the same clouds i chase towards the horizon whenever i think of staying beneath them infinitely, cloaked in the sweet, solitary safeness of smelling the summer and starlightstarbright. i'll be the first star they see tonight, the only one they'll see for the rest of their lives.

the ice that encases my heart

is jagged and opaque,
melting when you're close to it,
making it beatbeatbeat a little
harderbetterfasterstronger,
before freezing as soon as you take away
any part of you.

I'm sorry,
i know you're not the only one
who can melt it,
and i know i depend on you
more than i should.

I know your eyes aren't really enchanted,
i know your words aren't really soft,
subtle Love songs,
hiding behind a mask of casualty.
I know.

Author's note: "harderbetterfasterstronger" is Kanye West's. random, i know, but i stuck it in here. the rest is mine.

Stardust:

i miss you a lot

If you'd never been here--

if you hadn't seen grass or tasted peach, or fallen in love with anything but Saturn's rings...

if you knew english, but had never seen the things it was talking about

you couldn't imagine hate. it could be a blessing.

you can't imagine love; you're not even close to understanding something that big and beautiful

you can't imagine war, loss, pain...

you can't imagine hearbreak, you can't imagine light and music

and you can hear the word for what they are, not what we've twisted them to be.

every word in this language should be beautiful. fragile and perfect and felt. people hear a combination of vowels and consonants, the don't hear what you mean to say. they hear the emphasis on the syllables, not on the feelings.

but if you were floating around in inky blue, with winking white lights of dying stars, if you were learning the magic of words for the first time, and had nothing to mar and change the lucid perfection, you would gasp with awe, appreciation, wonder... at everything.

listen. imagine flying. you can feel the wind in your hair, hear it singing to you the way nothing else ever could--lending itself to you and allowing you to make it anything you could possible want. imagine flying.

now imagine, if you knew nothing else except the meaning of flying. knew nothing about these words that we fling about except that one word to express pure exileration, that word to express the impossible, that word as pure and crystalline and flawless as Love and Light... and then you heard that there were creatures called flies. flys. flyes. flyers. imagine how you would think of them, having never seen them. they should be angles. their wings should be huge, glossy, pearl-sheened with feathers as silky as water and as sharp as filed diamond. they should have faces with soft, meltingice azul eyes... they should have high, milky cheekbones and always be surrounded by mist.

if i could change any word in the english language, if there is one word that is completely misinterpreted by the creature used to represent it--it is flies. flies should equal angels.

it makes me sad in a way that nothing this trivial should.

The tears running down my face are just liquid drops of delicate desperation,

salty souveniers of this Love that breaks me, over and over. I wish I could look into your eyes and see, at the glassy bottoms of those whirling, aqua pools, that you feel this way, too. But even if you were here, beside me, even if you could hold my gase for more than a frozen moment that is instantaneously, simultaneously, forgotten and Forever, I wouldn't find this emotion. This shameless need for bottomless adoration, this heart wrenching want for your Love-dust words to be whispered for me, for only me. Wrapped in crackling cellophane and hidden under and icicled and abandoned Christmas tree. I'll send a Missing You mist and a magic carpet--float until you appear on the dew-drenched grass below my broken window, only to look up and see my face turned to the pulsing, starlit sky, wishing for you on the red lights of Jealousy Jetplanes. I'm not your dream, I know. I don't whiz through your mind like a comet, burning a fire trail of light and pain. All I can give you is this silent serenade, this Lovelorn letter. You're my world, rotating on the invisible axis of belief that I'm your world, too. Please, Lovely, please. Tell me you Love me. Tell me in words, in whispers. Tell me in the way you blink your eyes, tell me in the way you say my name. Even if you don't, okay? Tell me you Love me.