MakaykayFOshizzle

It’s not that I don’t care, and I know it’s not that you don’t either. We’re both just lost: busy in our minds and stuck in the thorn bushes. I’ve taken my cutters and trimmed the weeds away, but you let them grow back like gravity pulls me down. And now, I’m overgrown and my skin is red and raw; these thorns are hugging tighter than before. But I smile. I close my eyes and smile, squeezing my lids shut, holding back every tear I can. “I’m sorry,” you say, as I snip the green stems growing around your face. “You’re a great friend.” I reach for you, but my skin tea

I lied Sprawled out In a blanket of heat and sweat, And still I longed For your warmth to fill my silhouette.

I bet you taste like sweet cherries; Your soft pink lips are tempting me To peck you once, or twice, or more, And fill the gap against contour. I looked at you, now thrice I've seen. A king of rule, and I his queen. But alas it's mind's sick games To see a body and give it names; Hallucinate, and call it yours, To bring a sense of bliss, assured. When all it is, is little lies, As sweet as poison cherry pie.

I woke up half past two that day, Filled with lead my body weighed At least a ton or two, I'd say; I couldn't rise from where I lay. There were torrential rains inside My mind and floods came out my eyes, I tried, I tried to stop the tide, Tsunamis fought back; I tried. I tried.

I thought I saw your smirk that noon Before the clouds conceived ruin And took your grace away from me If only for a moment's time, I assured myself you would be mine, If not today Another time. It was three days before your grace Awoke from slumber and kissed my face. I berated you and still you glowed, Apologized with warm yellow. How could I ever tell you no?

Toes in sand, I look up high, Blinded by the ocean sky,     Wincing, squinting, I wonder why, Why our light remains so shy, Miles up amongst the sky. It shines and burns the people so, And yet, our love, it seems to grow     For something vast and years away, Bringing health, pushing ill below, With distance leaves humans mellow. But face to face there would be nil, Distance is beauty, and near is kill,     It's safe to say that looks deceive, I'd rather stay amidst the chill In the sand, far away by will, Or watching from my windowsill.

When bright rays And blue sky, White clouds, And subtle breeze, The soft sweet voice, Caress, Lick of the air, Seem to trickle away, I get the rain. The puffy coats And mangled hair, Rubber boots And wardrobe malfunctions. I'm drenched; Sodden and grey. Hiding under umbrellas and hoods, Afraid of a single drop. It would tarnish me. Closed windows, Shut curtains, Anything to mask the melancholy. But the sound overpowers. It patters my brain, And I succumb To the devilish torture Of lost beauty. And then, my friend, My sun, my shine, Pushes through the clouds with force, Kisses my face And pinkens my skin. And I pull the rays closer Into deep

Submerged in deep blue and broken frames, the soft hum of nothingness barricades the entry way to temporary freedom. When warmth and soft cushion do nothing but intrigue, and hours of pressure on calloused feet persuade the dark silence is brighter, louder, more persistent. Your name still waltzes on the tip of my tongue.