What would the moon be without the sun?

Without her distant light, her faint warmth?

A black hole of misery, tossed into oblivion-dark?

A tearfully invisible presence looming over us as we sleep?

Would she give chase, abandon our blue planet who neglects her so?

Or would she crumble into herself, until she was no more?

In any case, would we even notice? 

I paint through my tears 

And bite through the dark,

Praying for coils of cold wind to settle within me,

Hoping they can crush these deadly flames;

The ones that tell me to leap out that window,

To sprout wings and fly away and live in the shadows forever;

The ones that weld my lips shut and blind my eyes over,

Thrashing and tearing my insides apart.

I love for the cold release, the whisper of winter-tinted Ocean,

But wonder if ever such fortune shall befall me.

~~~~~~~~~

I haven't taken my medicine in a few days and it's kinda starting to get to me. Writer's block is now my plague.  

I love you all

In my own feather-light way

Where I'll stand back and let you

Flutter and be blown about by the wind,

But also hold my breath

For fear of crushing you

Under the weight of any sigh that may slip out,

And whisper as if my words may

Send you bursting into flame at the faintest touch.

Indeed, perhaps it is not real love

But me just pretending;

Trying to paint the picture of perfection

Scraping together the shards

Of my deeply broken being

And disguise it as something normal and commonplace;

Perhaps even something exceptional, in the best way.

But of course you begin to wilt,

Or catch a lick of flame, 

Or become washed away by tide or gale,

And I am left with nothing.

Inevitably, I must wonder if it's my fault.

Did I not love you enough? Was I even doing it right?

Did you waste away because what I gave wasn't real?

I crumble to the touch of my own bitter thoughts

And can only hope that I am carried to the far-off place

To where you have been brought.

Maybe then I can ask you if I did enough.

Maybe then I can love you more, in the way that you need.

Maybe then we can be truly happy, not just a façade

Or hollow promise.

Maybe we can fix things if only we can get more time. 

"A Reflection on Fiction"

Why do they exist,
these

Wonderous worlds of
nothingness and everything at once, these

Filaments of
thought, like stardust

The makings of ideas

Floating around in
the universe

We reach out to
almost grasp, until

A spark

A star is born

Pen to paper

Fingers to keys

Air to a note

Stardust to
everywhere

Taking wisps of
whimsy and turning them into something

Tangible

Exciting

Almost real

We create

And we consume

Shining stars,
elements spilt across the galaxies

Through stages,
through pages, through song

Permeate our
consciousness

And we are consumed

We obsess, we read

Every book in a
series, we seek

Any sort of
extension of the universes created by those brave enough to try

And new stardust is
spread

And new sparks are
birthed

Brought forth
through the cosmic soup of everyday life

Gravity bringing new
ideas together

Trails blazed by
earlier creations

Across the universe

And the comfortable,
ordinary darkness suddenly contains

Thousands of
pinpricks of light

Coming together to
upset the balance in fantastical ways

To form gorgeous
constellations of thought

Of imagery

Creations of the
human mind

---

Yay, a lighthearted one for once! Not very polished but whatever. 

hope is a fikle thing/it sways and drives me crazy/going to rest now

she's been sitting beneath the trees for too long, 

allowing the restless forest to take over. 

her curls are now adorned with wildflowers

and tangled with vines, 

her skirt is heavy with moss, 

embroidered with a collage of lichen, 

her face freckled with dirt, 

her eyes reflecting the stars. 

she's no longer an intruder in the forest, 

but a part of its system, 

a part of its soul, 

and perhaps that is the perfect place to be. 

Transfixed, I watch

You cast your spell on me

And I wouldn't give anything

To have it broken. 

If you are Icarus then I must be Daedalus - 

Building labyrinths, webs, walls of stone,

Never seeing the sun, all for both our sakes.

And you, you never listen.

You burn just because you can,

Say no one ever told you better, no one tried to help you.

Every word, every move is another flap of flimsy wings

Toward what looks to you like paradise.

And of course everything else is just holding you back,

Me most of all.

So go on, chase the heat, let it catch you in its ultimate embrace.

Let it burn away all you secretly loved.

Let the wax melt like the tears I once cried.

I will stay aloft, though the flames scar me too,

Watch you fall.

And I will turn my face before I see you sink

To find freedom at last.