Finding That One Scene In A Book That You Love To Read Again And Again Because You Just Can’t Get Over

maybe the rain is there to teach us that falling is beautiful. some people are a map when you didn’t realize you were lost. you’re the ache that never left, the first line of an unfinished song. it doesn’t have to be a poem to be poetry.. have you seen how carefully the light can touch your face? and even though I’m an abandoned house in search of a ghost, I don’t need anything from you. I want everything with you.

you're not hard to love. you were only made to feel that way by someone who didn't know how.

hidden conversations

We fell in love from the shadows

professing love through radiowaves

kissing pixelated lips

and whispered longings from under blankets

What are you wearing you ask, heaving.

Insecurities he gave me,

burns, scabs that I still pick at.

You don't flinch. You don't back down

Let me. Is all you say.

and I do.

closer than I've ever come to myself.

You take them down one by one.

And tie my hands with the softest of knots

When I try to beat myself up.

You say words I want to hear

But also the words I need to hear.

When I say

hold me and I'll break, hold me or I'll break

So you held me against you and said

I've got you and you've got me.

An anchor and a promise.

That's when I knew I've always loved you.

And I realize

I'm not walking a tightrope anymore.

I'm not walking anymore.

I don't have to walk.

Because I'm here. I'm home.

Starry Night ⭐

Lying down on our grassy lawn,

Stars arranged like they're drawn,

Little fingers intertwined,

Playing on loop Seeing blind.

Then, you stand up to light your cigar,

That's when I see a shooting star.

I see your face through lighters flame,

And realize both are the same.

(04.12.20)

Attempt at a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting 's December prompts.

to finding;

hands reaching out towards each other in the depths of the sea, a lone lighthose standing in the midst of the ocean, waves that roar and grow only taller, the sea spray and the salty breeze kissing your face, odd things washing up onto shore, letters written in cursive, effortless script, beholding the words of a lover.

“Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go.”

— Unknown

A CELESTIAL INSECURITY

Is the moon envious of the sun?

And it's radiance that cannot be outdone?

Is that why she hides behind the earth?

Calls it an eclipse but, doubting her worth.

What does she see when she looks into the lake?

Her molten silver face or the distortion that ripples make?

Is this why poets always write about her desolate beauty?

Because she's more like us than any character from a movie.

A celestial body far far away

Like all our insecurities in display

How many times have we envied others radiance,

And hid away from an audience?

Doubting our worth, causing self-esteem distortion

By looking at a person's life only in portion?

So like her, we go through phases

And like her, we grow through phases.

endearments in letters to véra

“Mais, vrai, j'ai trop pleuré! Les Aubes sont navrantes (But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking.)”

—

Arthur Rimbaud, 

Le Bateau Ivre (The Drunken Boat)

HANDS.

Why did we collectively agree

that love is stored in our hearts?

Why did no one stand up to argue

that love is within the other person's hands?

Trust me not?

Palm on your forehead late at night,

Checking your temperature.

A reassuring hand on your knee

When you're shaking with anxiety.

A grip around your wrists

While crossing the road.

Calloused fingers suddenly soft

While brushing tears off your cheeks.

Protective arm around your shoulders

when all you want is to lean.

Brush of fingers while passing a dish

Over the dinner table.

I'll cease to exist

When my heart stops beating

But I'll give you that letter with scrawly writings

Only when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.