Fragments of

Love Story

Crescent Moons and
Crescent Hearts and
Pyramids at our feet.

Holding hands and
Holding smiles and
Nightmares on the street.

Playing pretend and
Playing deceased and
Dragons to defeat.

Rusty steel and
Rusty love and
Alarm clocks on repeat.

Lonely Nights and
Lonely Memories and
Puzzles incomplete,

Of Crescent Moons and
Crescent Hearts and
Pyramids at our feet.

--

Fairytale

Fetch me my slipper
So I can start to feel.
It will fit like my heart,
Once you cut off my heel.

Give me a kiss
So I can open my eyes.
Let my stare shoot daggers
And thorny lies.

Tear me from comfort
So I can take part.
I’ll exchange three words
For this empty heart.

Lock me up inside
So I can stay here.
Show me your beaty
Through my blinding fear.

Invite me on your journey
So I can learn to fly.
Three wishes for my freedom
No mercy for your lie.

--

Instead

So instead, can I write you a love poem?
One that has a sad beginning and a sad ending, and that doesn’t rhyme and doesn’t have a set structure.
Can I write you a bad love poem instead? Because I know how to write bad love poems, but I don’t know how to do this.

So can I type you a web address, instead?
And then press enter before adding the last “m”, so it won’t load?
Can I be a bad typer, instead? Because I know how to be too hasty, but I don’t know how to to this.

Can I draw you a picture instead?
A picture in anime style, even though we both hate it. And when I’m done I will resist the urge to tear it up, because you will pretend to like it.
So can I be an artist, instead? Because I know how to ruin beauty, but I don’t know how to do this.

So instead, can I write this in English?
And add in all kinds of hard words that you don’t understand, that I always forget about until they are really needed.
Can I speak another language, instead? Because I know how to abandon my mothertongue, but I don’t know how to do this.

So can I break down and cry, instead?
In that way where no tears actually come out, and I hate myself for being too inept to even cry correctly?
So can I give up, instead? Because I know how to be weak, but I don’t know how to do this.

Can I pretend to be someone else instead?
Someone who’s capable and creative and funny and determined and pretty and likable.
Can I be that one person instead? Because I don’t know how to do this, but they would.

Dec. 2, 2008

--

Orbit

I’m a shining star.
You’re a glowing moon.
I can make you dizzy,
You can make me swoon.

Send my love across the void;
Receive signals you transmit.
I will do it all come to you
While you are stuck in orbit.

--

Streetlamps and Snowstorms

Streetlamps and Snowstorms
Are running through my head.
Because memories have faded
And in time I am mislead.

The streets are slightly darker now
Than the streets that came before.
The wind blows slightly colder now
Than the winds that blew in yore.

But my hands are still Purple,
My nose is still cold,
So I guess nothing’s really changed
Since I was Nine years old.

Because I still chase Reality,
And you’re still chasing dreams,
While Cherry trees and swing sets
Are bursting at the seams.

But at least the Rain still feels the same
As it pools into our scars;
But we’ve forgotten all the words
That were written for this farce.

--

Thank you for the Band Aid

I don’t love your soul,
Or even your sincere eyes.
I don’t care for your style,
Or the way you tell lies.
I don’t feel like going down
With you tonight.
And I don’t want to wake tomorrow
Basked in your light.
My soul is too broken now,
But thank you for the band aid.
Thank you for the memory,
Even if memories fade.
Thank you for the concern,
I guess you have a knack
For giving it to people who
Won’t be able to give it back give it back.

November 19, 2008

--

Plaster

I will share with you a secret
That you will never hear:
Your feelings taste like plaster
Whenever she is near.

Her heart will never stutter,
But leads you to disaster.
Every word you love she quotes;
But I can say them faster.

I link your eyes to butterflies,
Chinese food, and dust motes.
Easily scattered, sweet and sour,
And colour dreams afloat.

She links your eyes to blankets
That you let her devour.
While we stay on a collision course
At seven miles per hour.

I will share with you a secret
That brings us to the source:
This isn’t love or hate or fear,
But closer to remorse.

January 30, 2009