not quite nameless.

sweetly smiling sweetheart
crooked teeth and starry eyes
You know, you could mean the world to me.
Maybe we'll make a history
of our own. But I cant read the future
and only time will tell.
In the mean time,
we could make some memories.
All these people here tonight are
not quite as worthwhile as you.
So, let's paint our faces and
share some secrets.
Hidden galaxies.
Stand on the back porch and
watch the lightening light up
the night sky, talking
in slow sentences of
nothing and everything,
all at once.

one.through.five

1. Changing Seasons -
the sun holds the living in captivation for eternities at a time. Some days the pretty pixels are more than enough to make my heart beat. Some days it still feels like gray-sky winter.

2. Sharp Tongued -
Dear, who taught you that when your charm and whit fail, resorting to condescending accusations is the acceptable Plan B for winning hearts? They were wrong.

3. Attention To Detail -
yes, it's true, when you're young everything is the end of the world. I remember but pay close attention. See the sunset and the fireflies? Salvation hides in the smallest things - just open your eyes, my love.

4. Mysteries Abound -
teeth and eyes - smiles and sighs and I don't owe anyone anything. It took a while, learning to remove the stitching from the heart on my sleeve. The price to pay for becoming a question mark.

5. Second Glances -
i know that i will look back and be desperate to say that I did all that i could. Regrets are expected. Smile and keep driving. What's behind you is done. Keep your eyes on the road, baby. Don't hold your breath waiting for tomorrow.

News Flash:

Yes, it hurts.
But not like I remember
and you don't scare me anymore.
Not since I opened my eyes.
Not since last week.
And my heart doesn't beat for you.
At least, not like it did,
once upon a time.
You tiptoed your way out of that fairy tale
but in my book, baby, you're
still making headlines.

The Art of Existence

Oh, it's easy,
the art of disappearing.
I've perfected it once or twice.
Reappearing,
that's the challenge.
Maybe not the act.
But the act of willing the act.
Force and expectation.
Take a deep breath and hold it.
Deep inside your lungs.

You push yourself back on that stage
before the curtain goes up -
the audience staring back at you.
Open like a book.
Flaws and imperfections
judged by the masses.
Keep your head high.
don't retract like a turtle.
It gets easier with time.
Just like riding a bike.
cross my fingers - promise.
Hold your breath a little longer
and the curtain ascends like
"Taa-Daa"

An ode to your presence

No more excuses and time is running out.
The rivers are drying up and
you can't count the stars through the
haze of city lights.
We might not be so worried
if it were February.
But, as seasons have it,
April is here,
along with some fairy tales and
interesting news reports.
I'm not sure how much longer
this can last.
If you leave, who will keep the
monsters at bay, and who will
distract the prison guards?
Please, don't leave.
Don't you see?
I'll be eaten alive without you.

unconventional love.

I've been talking you up for years
layer upon layer
diamonds and concrete
blue eyes thrown into the mix.
Turns out, as rumor has it,
this is all some silly little game and
it is yet to be determined but
the truth of the matter is that
fact from fiction could not,
would not make me
love you less.

Probability in the Predicament

February stole the
words from my mouth.
March put on a mask,
vanished in the crowd.
Just like you.
Seems to be the way
things work 'round here.
I dissolve into the horizon.
Perhaps I'll stay lost
for a second of two.
Learn some new tricks
and play connect the dots.
Smoke and mirrors to
murder and magic.
No use trying to
win this round.
I'm holding all 52 cards.

Taste the Infinity.

Twenty-one colour negation
cannot meltdown
or translate
the simple
reverberations of
your smile.

The Sky(line) is Beautiful Tonight

I don't adore snapping fingers
or blown kisses or harsh words.
Not like I adore lilies or
"goodmorning, sunshine"s or
second chances.
I'm human too, most of the time.
Tell me to jump and
I'll say "goodbye."
Expectations escape me and
don't believe everything you hear.
Or see. Or touch, taste and smell.
Nothing personal, love, I'll
question it all.
The sound of the rain may still
make me cry but don't think
so much - you're not to blame.
I'll show you mine
if you show me yours first.
But battle scars don't impress me,
baby, everyone's got them.
Still, I like the sound of your voice
so, can you kiss my cheek,
tell me the story
one more time?