Emerald Grip

The bite in your emerald mercy gives me an unprecedented currency of hope. And I don’t even like hope. It’s like stale pottery. It’s like trying to decline aging. 

The grip of urgency is at my numb fingertips. Just to pull myself closer to hear my breath smatter up against the brick wall I’ve banged my head upon for too long. 

Sense cannot be knocked into you like that. I promise. 

You whisper icicle thoughts that melt and drop deep into the caverns of my chambers. I don’t intend to lose myself looking for them. I have already lost myself with you time and time again.

But why the curious in what my heart pulls me towards? It’s me. Confusion can be handled wrapped in soft egg white fabric, and your emerald of reach is beautiful. 

Sool

You are the soulstice to my ever glowing nature. The soulutions I find in my everyday.
Your soulfullness resonates in my bones, that warm laundrified fuzzy blanket against bone skin.
How soulganic we are in our soulitude. You soulidify so much purpose in my being, that soulving kind of souldier, dedicated not to beat the problems, but to make them understood.
The absoulute of my breath, the consoulable feature of all teddy bear grub.
My resoulationial feats when I get stuck in mind mud. I’d stay in isoulation with you, fuel ourselves with our gasouline and live in the factual heat. That all of this means

you are my soul mate.

You’re Still Here

I think about you everyday. I miss you. I think about the what have I dones and the whys and why didn’t I and how could I and what was I thinking and in all of this, making some rational sense because sense without rational is like the national anthem without pride.
oh Life, I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.

Internal Peace

I used to surrender to the power of the love for other people, instead of loving myself.
My relationships not lasting because I had no internal peace. Nobody was ever going to be enough in my eyes because I consistently and constantly required more then what any human could give. Internal peace. I am not good for anyone if i am not good for self . If I am my own toxic habit, I will only spill that on the jeans of my partner and no matter how many times you wash, that stain doesn’t come out.

Bravery

The way you like it like this,
but can’t say the words.
The way it’ll throw you off course
You Tell me that at Least.
while your back against the plaid
that you gave me
How many years ago now?
Time trickles through the system
and we absorb and believe
that One Day,
we will tell it truly,
How we Like it.
And the Course,
will forever be Changed.