Candlelight

I need you close, candlelight, this house is so cold.

Six days a week, slipping on icy floors, shivering on a rotten mattress,

watching the sun grow old.

The shutters creak and fling open; the wind freezes my butter and toast.

A thousand blankets could not melt this tundra;

why aren’t you there when I need you most?

Once a week, candlelight, you flicker into existence with a smile.

My frown delights, heart excites, body feels sweet slumber—

can’t you, I beg, stay a longer while?

As night draws near, you disappear, without even a smoke trace.

My hands remember, my lips are tender, my mind hopes:

perhaps tomorrow, candlelight, you will love my face.

But tomorrow you are elsewhere; the day after is too soon.

Six days must pass, flipping over the waiting glass—

long, pretty sunrise and bright lonely moon.

I wonder sometimes,

if it would’ve been easier

never to have known you…

Masterpiece

The moment when he looks at you and there’s your reflection,

clear like this morning in the mirror before you arrived

but now your hair’s messed up and your nose looks swollen,

and the wrinkles under your eyes reveal fatigue, age, 

the way you pull at your skin when wiping off liner - 

and you think to yourself, mid-way reminiscence,

 “I’ve really got to stop doing that”

but also, “Wow.” Just wow.

The moment when he looks at you - and you’re all he sees.

The nice outfit, the spot on your cheek. 

You’ve been lost for a long time, decades maybe,

but he's found you now, eyes wide, calm, staring.

The imperfections mesh with flawlessness;

it’s a live portrait, so you don’t move. 

This is his viewpoint: he accepts you,

petals and thorns, rips and holes, dirt and dust,

he wants all of it. Every junkyard scrap and rusty corner,

your flat butt and small chest, the stress episodes and indecisiveness,

your inability to relax sometimes when nothing is going on,

the constant fretting that drives him up the wall,

or whatever is specific to your body and who you are.

He wants you. 

It’s in his eyes, miles away or an inch apart. 

He watches when you arrive, the time you’re there,

when you leave. He doesn’t want to miss a minute of you.

“I love you,” he says. “I love all of you.”

It’s hard to believe it when you look in the mirror - 

the mirror isn’t alive, doesn’t know you, and doesn’t really see you;

it just reflects your own interpretation of yourself.

Ugly, pretty, depends on the day, your mood, how long you slept, 

whether you’re sick or not, the tiny details of your makeup:

this is your self-image. Your viewpoint. Most of the times, it’s hurtful. 

You’re just never good enough.

And then that moment comes, when he looks at you - 

and you realize how beautiful you are to someone.

You are a work of art, every bump, every hair, every cell in your body.

You are the calm and the storm, the summer heat and winter breeze.

You are a blend of colors and textures, softer on some days, a stubborn rock on others.

You are high as Cloud 9 and low as an old oak’s roots,

you are the northern star in a black sky, and the black sky to a northern star. 

You are sugar in lime, a pearl in sand, an oil painting with smudges.

You are you. It was done on purpose.

Look in his eyes and you’ll see, you are nothing less than a masterpiece. 

Dynamite Lotus

Dynamite Lotus in lilac ensemble,
serene presentation, but I know you too well.
Black-magic diva, clowns fumble;
the scars will glitter along Alice's hell.
Lost your mind, have you, drinking lust,
a shot to the brain with obsessive relapse?
Childish chimera on borderline hope;
part skull tattoo, part shy lemonade glass.
On whose throne do you twirl, poised lie?
Admit dependence on Mother Lily's crown.
Linked by graphene umbilical cord,
soft lashes stretch high, but tonight you will drown.
The froth on twelve orders of botulinum
stacks, crisp needles choking one hay-thread.
Heart-pulse, ribbons tear, blood rain shrieks
like tongueless infant thrown in shadow's bed.
Petals gashed and truth unveiled, the Lotus blooms dead.

All I Want To Know

hi again.

i forgot to say something last time we met up.
it was stupid and irresponsible on my part,
to let it slip off my mind.
so, i stayed awake all night and thought about
what would be the best way to tell you.

should i bring flowers?
should i sing it aloud?

i don't have enough money to send planes across the sky
and ask them to write my message in the clouds.
i'm sorry.

i tried icing it on a tall, white cake,
but i'm not very good at that and you deserve expertise.

i went to a hundred different stores and looked for a card,
but nothing written in them were even close to enough.

i did try calling you, but got nervous and hung up halfway.
what a coward i am.
i've embarrassed myself.

and now i'm here, having run through a rainstorm,
soaking wet and a total mess.
i'm cold and a wreck, so anxious in front of you
that i'm burning a fever.

i feel like there's something stuck in my throat.
if i try to speak, will my insides come out?
will you see everything?
will you stay?

scared, but more afraid to lose you.
my life is on the line.
my heart is beating through the earth.
my soul is shaking like a glass leaf caught in a winter breeze.

this is it, nightmare and dream.
but you need to hear it
before anyone else gets the chance.

my eyes filled with tears, i whisper to you now
    will you marry me?

In Caves Of Ice

In caves of ice, Aphrodite disrobed,
unveiling mountains formed by satin pools
and beckoned Thanatos, whose black tongue probed
through sky-shade flames and vixen-eyed jewels.
"Come lie with me," the Lady whispered soft,
curvaceous horizons along her thighs.
"Let them reign in immortality's loft,"
Echo hummed between Her porcelain sighs--
yet as pleasure climbed galaxies unknown,
the pallid King unsheathed charcoal-stained fangs
and wolverine nails, tearing vein and bone
along cliff-edge, where red waterfall hangs.
He smirked shrewdly above innocence wrecked.
"Now butterflies burn in love's defect."

Beloved Raven

Beloved Raven, curled in obsidian night,
how might I describe mine heart's delight?
In Creationism, God buried a single diamond
and concealed its luster beneath sands of a thousand,
where solitude's dismay blemished memories untold
as Fool's eyes remain blind betwixt ignorance's fold.
Alas, having searched years in hopeless dream,
scarred fingertips unearthed a resplendent gleam;
there you stood, clad in loose shadows, lips sealed,
though silence louder than words all revealed.
At first sight, strangers lingered by fate's reckoning.
At first touch, strangers remembered demons softening.
Here, now, two souls entwine in heavenly devotion,
like seraphic vines surfacing this dark world-ocean.
How far might we fly before barricades rise?
If the wind is unforgiving, shall we unravel our ties?
Allow such fears to pass, of loneliness, of loss,
as it was not coincidence that led our paths to cross,
but divine compassion and answers from prayer.
Two bright pearls in one oyster is remarkably rare.
Should tempests churn bitterly with sadness severe,
rest assured arms shall hold and amity wipe your tear.
Should your wings feel weak and time flows slow,
may these hands lift your soul and tranquility bestow,
while, fastening curtains, shall I guard your sleep through.
What blessed happiness it is being near you.
Beloved Raven, if stars shatter and universes collide,
in heart's delight shall Lenore perch forevermore by your side.

Star-crossed Lovers

The story goes that there were only ever
two true stars. One represented kindness
and the other sincerity. Together, they made
the most beautiful light anyone had seen
since the beginning of time. Then one day,
they disappeared.  The sky fell into utter
darkness and the King of Heaven had to
create new ones, but none were nearly
as bright or enchanting. Millenniums
passed and people grew tired of searching
for the lost celestial gleams. In fact,
many had forgotten their existence with
only the universe to remember the
mislaying. Years later, on an unexpected
day, a girl who had been voiceless since birth
suddenly found herself calling a name she
had never known before. To her surprise,
a boy lingering in the same room met
her gaze questioningly. The girl
smiled, leaned closer, and whispered
in his ear, "Has any ever told you
that your eyes are like the stars?"

The boy just smiled. He stared back
and said, "I would need my eyes to be stars.
The galaxies upon galaxies of energy are
all working overtime to try to help
me comprehend how God could make
someone as beautiful as you. Each
individual star in my eye made by looking
at you is just another individual reason
for me to hold you in my heart."
And after this,
she realized that every second of every
day her beauty radiating off of her
was responsible for each and every star
in the universe. Since the boy's eyes
are merely a reflection of light to
what he sees, and all he saw…
was her.