cannot.

he said your story's so fucking tragic

if i read it you'd have my sympathy

but living in it with you

is more than you can ask of me 

you make sad look so peaceful 

but the stillness does not run deep

and there's no one that can fix

what's broken underneath

i gave it my everything

until you wrung all the caring out of me

and now i look at you

and think its time you set me free

of all this misery 

and hope for things that you can never be

untitled.

under the setting sun, we
shared our thoughts and memories
you kissed me until i
drew a breath and began to cry
for the things that i had seen, they
broke my heart and took my breath away
until you came and kissed me free
and breathed meaning into me.

imperfection.

Imperfection might be the reflection of

Scintillating smooth ripples of butterflies

Melting warm on my tongue

Hot bullets shooting outward like a raging fire against

The roof of my mouth on every pressured breath

Maybe crying slippery crystal tears that fall, tinkling like

Small silver bells carried, jostling, in a quart berry basket

Maybe laughing wide because of the tricks yet to be played

Capers gone unnoticed amongst a fury of suspicion

Selling an unsuspecting hen a lottery ticket

...Faking an utterly perfect egg

...Advising a captured balloon to freedom

...Pretending that the tail isn't mine

...What tail?

Maybe rolling over sleepily on a bleary winter morning

Shrinking to the size of a pea wrapped in a cozy pod of down

Drowning in an intense apathy for fiercely brushing

My tooth with a thrice-sharpened axe of ancient toothbrush fame

Maybe dreading the future keeps me snuggled and afraid

Of the weary children slaving on Saturdays trapped

Beneath a hot, bright, noisily shining Sun that somehow

Is a little farther than over there

. ..A little longer than forever and a day

...A little faster than the raging wind

...A little more perfect than nothing

...And everything -

Is hanging in anticipation of the rain crashing down

Maybe sloshing against the wet and heavy air

Washing clean the scratchy thoughts and dust collections

Of imperfections from my hair

shiver.

i am disappointed, more than i can say
i'm trying to explain, but words are getting in the way
i am sadder than i have ever been, today -
stumbling, shivering, down memory lane..
where the words are hollow and the colors grey,
where the laughter is missing and in its place
is this silence that we have made
a stillness in which my heart silently breaks
with the knowledge that there can be no escape
from who we become and what we create.

you raise me up to more than i can be...

when i am down, and oh, my soul so weary

when troubles come, and my heart burdened be

then i am still and wait here in the silence

until you come and sit a while with me...

i miss you, achacha.

the memory of you makes me stronger. 

love, always.

untitled.

suffer at my side
we'll make the same mistakes
learn the lessons well
and make the mistakes again
break your misery down
honey, tear it right up
put the pieces into this paper cup
toss it in the sink
and just think about this...

the window is open
the sunlight is fading
and nothing is making
any sense anymore

but we stay silent
because that's how we like it
there is no reason to fight it
as we lie on this floor

well honey, i am ashamed
and i am sadder than i feign
but there is no need to explain
you are all i'm looking for.

stay beautiful...

"if you and i are the story
that'll never get told
if what you are is a daydream
i'll never get to hold
at least you'll know...

you're beautiful
every little piece, love
and don't you know
you're really gonna be someone
ask anyone...

and when you find
everything you looked for
i hope your life
leads you back to my front door
oh, but if it don't...
stay beautiful..."

i'm waiting for our moment.

currently: wistful.