serenityinpoetry-blog

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

Mother told me about the tumor growing in your heart

11/06/21

Mother told me about the tumor growing in your heart.

It was really your father, who then told mother.

Who then told me somewhat randomly like

a passing note, or those TV stands displayed on window stores

that we used to walk by our feet alongside the pavement floor.

Well I miss you. Still feels wrong to say.

Still remember that day when you said your chest started to ache.

It was 2nd grade. Sat next to you at lunch like it was a normal day.

Until the hospital bed became your new bedroom frame.

Celebrated Christmas with you at the waiting room through your mother’s phone.

They wouldn't let me visit you. Was too young to cry about it fully.

Was too focused on hearing your reaction as you opened my gift.

Couldn’t see your face, but I heard you laughing and

a lightness coating your voice.

Miss you. Miss laughing with you. Miss how things used to be.

Your mother was my second mother until she hurt my actual mother.

Do you hate my mother too? Not too sure what she said to you.

Not too sure what happened to us. I’m sorry if it’s my fault.

I’m sorry if it’s not. I’m sorry if we both didn’t do anything wrong.

Your father is a terrible man, but he prayed the day of your surgery.

Even he couldn’t afford to lose you.

Miss you. Know that I harbor no hate.

Know that I don’t react happily towards your suffering.

Hope you are becoming better. Hope you’ve let go of residual resentment.

Hope you’ve become a soul that holds less envy.

Wished I was beside you on the hospital bed back then. Wish I was beside you now.

Hope you’re not lonely. Hope someone is taking care of you.

Know that recovery is not linear.

Know that you will overcome it like you did in 2nd grade.

Know I understand hearing that news and how heavy it weighed.

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

How pink became my favorite color

You were taught at the age of eleven how wrong it is to bleed. When you said you loved red, it was because of roses. It was because of hearts. You didn’t tell them red was what you felt--the warmth, the burning, the yearn for more. The passion and ambition, the driving force in your core. You didn’t tell them that red was how you felt your anger. Last time you did, you were shamed and they stomped on anything that held its hue. They painted walls white and said Leave this spotless. Leave this clean. Don’t spillover and create a stain that you wish you can erase. 

White meant good and pure and clean. White meant innocent. They nicknamed you Angel, of course they wanted to envelop you with white. You were supposed to be the dove. But was there anything holy in eating its brain? Was there anything holy in burning those pages? Was there anything holy in a mother having to go through traumatic pain, just so you can live? An exchange of trauma, bestowed upon you wrapped in silk. Like the towel wrapped around you, too big even at its smallest size. Was there anything holy in hiding you when you were a baby, not fully formed, didn’t look human? They sigh in relief when you turn out to be “normal.” They sigh in relief when you’re not a problem child, unlike your brother. They sigh in relief because you do well in school. They sigh in relief because, despite the pain and sacrifice and sweat and blood, you turn out to be worth it. 

But sometimes it leaks out, the imperfectness. The ugly and the taboo. The forbidden. Your anger snaps like lightning, and they are taken aback for a moment. They try to conceal it for good measure, for publicity. Family problems are only discussed inside the house. If any of it slips out, you are dishonoring everyone who came before you. It’s mantra. It’s law. It is welled inside you like your cells. It makes up your foundation, of who you are. It’s all you’ve known. 

You’re a quick learner, it has always been one of your strengths. You’ve learned to conceal the fire. To internalize it so only your nerves can be burned. So only your bones can decay. So the blood can flare up and make you warm, if only to remind you what you can’t entirely separate. It’s not only anger, it’s everything else, too. It’s hunger that devours you, it’s longing that grows teeth. It’s grief that makes you dig until God visits you in your dreams. It’s sadness that drowns and consumes and leaves you hollow. It’s joy so bright that even the sun is put to shame. It’s blinding excitement. It’s a profound gratitude that makes you step back and look at yourself historically. It’s loving unconditionally. 

The thing is, life becomes colorful when your heart is naturally that open. The thing is, these exist only because it’s innate for you to feel them. But you were taught at eleven how wrong it is to bleed. How wrong it is to feel so much, both the beautiful and the ugly. The sharing and the taking. You love too loudly, you grieve too long, you flare up angrily, you are quick to become cold. You’ve learned to hide the good, too, because it makes just as much noise. And when people don’t match it, the discouragement strikes back at you tenfold.

But you’re a quick learner. It is easy to make yourself small. It is easy to accept the impossible feat of loving you the way you were made. You devote time to understand your feelings, investigate them as cases meant to be understood. Meant to make sense. It’s wrong to feel something when it doesn’t make sense. It means you’re selfish. It means you are taking too much space.

It is easy to dress in white. It complements your olive skin and makes you glow. You only own a few pieces in red. You can count on one hand the times you wore them. But you are all red. The same red that pools in your veins. The same red that coats your fury and passion. The same red that warms your cheeks. Even in your aversion, it is red. Even in your shame, it is red. Things are hardly white for you. White is calm, easily flowing, and peaceful. But that’s not you. Your mind is a red swirling fire, it burns and yearns and wishes for more. When it settles, it still flickers in anticipation. White indicates acceptance, surrender. But to surrender feels like death. Surrender feels like loss. 

When you make yourself small and lie that you’re not spilling over, you are surrendering. In this case, you embody everything White. You become Angel, contained and elegant and poised. You become what everyone expected you to be. But why is that so? Did they expect a brutal, painful travel through that birth canal to yield a serene child? A child who knew how to be obedient and waited to be told to speak?

No, but that child is a quick learner, and resourceful to a fault. If the environment wanted her to take the form of some other being, she was able to mold herself to fit that space. If a situation calls for her to act a certain way, she would mirror what needs to be done. If people wanted an angel or a ball of flame, she would let them see both extremes. But it’s just for survival. It’s just so life can be easier and kinder to you. You carry both white and red, and when people ask what your favorite color is, you say it’s both. You say it’s rose pink. And you think, this is how I will compromise. This is how I will satisfy both realms in me. This is how I will reach peace internally.

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

Lonely Wise Heart

I paint my heart with nostalgic hues, azure memories and my lavender muse, like to keep it simple, like to keep it raw, I want them to see beyond my crimson flaws A world so flat was easy to control, now a sphere I find it difficult to even hold Every rotation is a sign for changes, like viridescent-turned-apricot leaves falling from their branches I like to be viewed as an Angel with dove wings but I am just a person finding solace in words dipped in nothingness ink, black, consuming everything it sees in one blink I have once seen the world in monochrome, touched red seeping from a friend’s arm, screamed, although only ghosts roamed, I’ve once felt sadness in places sadness shouldn’t ever show Scratched skin and deep cut marks, Thin red lace ribbons tied around my neck, I’ve seen my friend’s eyes turn bloodshot red Wanted to blame her father for not locking the cupboards, but I drowned in her sorrys, I drowned in her depression, Told her that I’ll be here forever they took her rancid and rotting dead body They took her away from me I’ve seen the light drawn away from her eyes I’ve heard stopped heartbeats and hushed whispering goodbyes I take solace in past memories Despite that method being unhealthy Why am I addicted to this feeling? This feeling is all that haunts me I’ve felt caps lock dipped-poisoned words shot right at me, I kissed their wounds through my battered red lips Why did I lie? Why didn’t I show my face? Why did they left me? Why was I replaced? Healing angel, I try to find the best in everybody My friends want me to heal them and I am packed and ready I feel and I listen and I experience their pain Stings through me as if I’m standing beneath acid rain My bloodied dove wings, they can’t see They can’t see the pain I’ve been suffering Those who know tend to forget I am so quiet they can’t sense that I’ve wept I take solace when they depend on me, trust, and love me, but my past and my present will collide, I’ll see my azure memories crawl beneath my white dress, My lavender muse coated with inked mess, Crimson flaws painting every person I know with a lying nostalgia, I’ve called for help but there’s no screaming in my trauma They call me an Angel, and I want to be important I search for the best in people, and their demons take me for advantage My Angel wings will spread I’ll look as if I have nothing to fear But sometimes it’s lonely being the only one up here

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

My eyes met yours and I'm thinking of poetry Sorrow metaphors and dry similes Can't remember the last time mirth met me while brushing my skin against your leather jacket I forgot how the cold stings my body bare and naked memories of sleepy fingers hushed whispers lips puckered in the same hue as blood Was it enough? Your touch shredded things to pieces petrified, lost in panic I wanted to find an excuse and call it a reason, but unwavering glares bore into my water brown eyes I fluttered my wings and pretended I was light like the sky You were untouchable even though I once felt you under my skin, The people we once were have decayed and will never have a thought, a memory, nor a name

Untouchable, 7/29/16

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

You were obsessed Wrapped yourself around my finger Despite my protests Did it hurt when I pushed you away? Never giving you a glance, Stopped asking you to stay? You loved hearing me beg I wasted hours devoting your problems I had many of mine covered in dust Tired of typing endless paragraphs But I knew you wouldn't feel unloved Now my eyes are dulled, and I'm running on apathy Used to be defined from the words I say, I now mean less when I use too many

Compassion leads to Destruction

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

HE SAID "DARLING LET ME HEAL ALL YOUR WOUNDS," BUT I COULDN'T HELP BUT FEEL THE DISTANCE IN THIS ROOM, HE SAID, "BABY LET ME STITCH IT WITH ONE, LASTING KISS," BUT HE WAS ONLY DOING IT TO BENEFIT HIS SELFISH BLISS, HE SAID, "I NEED SOME TIME TO GET MY LIFE STRAIGHT," BUT WHAT ABOUT THE TIMES I FELL FOR YOUR BAIT? WHEN HE LEAVES, I SEE A FLASH OF LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL AND I WONDER, IS THIS TRULY WHAT I'M SEEING? HE SAYS I AM DREAMING. AND I BELIEVE EVERY WORD HE SAYS. WHENEVER HE'S GONE MY HEART CAN FINALLY HEAL, BUT WHEN HE'S AROUND MY LEGS FORGET HOW TO FEEL, HIS COMMANDS, THEY HINDER MY GROWTH, HE SAYS THAT THEY WILL BENEFIT US BOTH, I CRY EVERY TIME I LAY IN BED, FOR I BELIEVED IN EVERYTHING HE SAID, AND EVEN THOUGH OUR FIRST KISS WAS MY FAVORITE THING, I FORGOT TO MENTION HOW IT FUCKING STINGS, BUT THE PAIN DIDN'T MATCH TO WHEN I TOLD YOU, "YOU WILL BE ABLE TO FIND YOUR PATH ON YOUR OWN," AND THEN AFTER THAT, I FIND MYSELF ALONE, HE SAID, "WE WEREN'T IN LOVE," I SAID, "I TRUSTED YOU, ISN'T THAT ENOUGH?" HE SHOOK HIS HEAD, GUESS HE MADE HIS DECISION, AS IT SEEMS, HE TOLD ME, "YOU ARE JUST LIVING IN A DREAM," HE SAID SHE WAS ETERNAL BEAUTY, WHILE I WAS THE REMNANTS OF SOMETHING FLEETING, HIS WORDS RUNG THROUGH ME, TEARING MY SELF-BEING, AND I CAN FEEL A FAMILIAR ACHE FINDING IT'S HOME IN MY CHEST, MY LOVE FOR HIM THAT HE SAVAGELY SUPPRESSED, HOW WERE WE NOT IN LOVE, HOW WERE WE NOT IN LOVE? I WAS WILLING TO GIVE YOU EVERYTHING, EVEN THE STARS ABOVE.

Rejection, 5/1/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

I sense the presence of salt digging underneath my dark, brown irises as I furiously rub them continuously, continuously, trying to stop the salty waters to reveal a "glint". That glint will showcase the secrets I've been trying to keep hidden, so, you can see why I'm trying to remove this substance away. My body is feeling nothing but numbness from the cold temperature, and I'm beginning to wish I was in a dark and deep slumber, rather than to be swept away from these rapid currents. The saltwater leaves a stinging sensation in my wounds and bruises, the many marks that indicate every wasted potential I had. I tried to keep swimming in a direction I had no knowledge was taking me. What if shore was behind? What if land was left or right? But I continued to push my body forward, forward, and forward. It's been hours and I still failed to see any sort of safe area ahead. I try to tell myself to keep swimming, keep swimming, and perhaps someone might find you. But as I paddle my feet, as my breath quickens, as the tidal waves continue to grow more treacherous, I find myself stopping all actions. My pleads are hushed whispers against the storm. Signal flares are nothing in this foggy area. Swimming is suicide against these monstrous currents. From the beginning, maybe I was trying to live in some sort of illusion, thinking that someone was going to find me. Perhaps for once, I desperately wanted to live. In time, I found my body sinking into the dark abyss in the deep end of this sea blue, and I can hear the voices telling me to surrender. Just surrender. Holding weakly onto the anchor that is dragging me down, I did just that.

Drowning, 5/1/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

I welcomed this love as if it were oxygen, benefiting myself in anyway, but I was blind to know that your own scent acted like intoxicants, leaving me stuck in cement of words that cut, never to be washed away The saddest part was how I loved you so much that I treated you like a first, but at the same time, you learned that I come second; and the nourishment you feel in your heart from my words that heal, is not the same, for I feel an emptiness despite my pulse that rapidly beats every time I hear your name I thought you were my oxygen, guiding me how to breathe, inhale, exhale, but it hitches every time your fingers collide with me When I kept planting seeds in your garden of mysteries and knows, I was gullible to think that the snow and ice will not make these flowers sink, but no, they did, and the saddest part is the question I'm trying to get rid; if you even cared, if you even noticed I'll never know that, for when I told you with words that held greatest sincere that you were the best thing I've never had, I became something you can come back to late at night, for there was none that held open doors, when you've sipped too much intoxicants, but baby did you even realize that you became one? Those promises of a paradise, has turned into vain, for the tragedy we promised to never become one, has our "paradise" crumbled into none

There will be no next time, 6/12/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

I am a huge mess of anxiety, blurting out consistent excuses, 'cause I don't want to take a risk, but for a huge mess of anxiety, I am definitely one to not miss I am a huge mess of anxiety, with my tiny bones, that crack, break and rupture, so easily, and the reason is still unknown I am a huge mess of anxiety, and you call my name, you claim that I am just scared, for I never experienced true excitement, but honey I'm not scared, I just know exactly how the world works I am a huge mess of anxiety, and knowledge isn't part of my medication, but I guess I'll take this one risk, for I need it to further my education; knowledge kills, it creates the ideas of our brains, but knowledge is all I can grasp towards, whenever I am experiencing pain I am a huge mess of anxiety, my skin shivers every time I sense their stares, hating every time I feel the sharp ting in the back of my hairs I am a huge mess of anxiety, and I wish I can just turn off my mind, to finally feel some sort of peace, before this inner war zone leaves me blind

Anxiety Is My Middle Name, 6/24/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

There are nights where I want my heart to stop their orchestra of palpitations, hours where the numbness covers any sensations, days where I write novels of my unexplained thoughts and feelings until my hand just breaks. There are nights where my cries might seep through a wall, puncture a soul, perhaps that is how we feel empathy. There are nights where I can feel you hold me closely, erratic breathing, afraid that I'll be falling deeper and deeper inside oblivion, and perhaps that is how we feel love. Your voice is like a soft piano ballad, your eyes are as dark as the night sky; though I can see the stars shimmer bright, your hands feel smooth against my skin, your mere presence makes me go soft and I find myself possibly falling in love, because unlike the rest, you erased the discomfort growing inside my chest.

I cannot spell love without the thought of you, 6/24/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

WE ARE THE POISONED YOUTH, FILLING OUR LUNGS WITH SMOKE AND HAZY TRUTHS, PERHAPS THE BOTTOM OF A WHISKEY BOTTLE WILL LESSEN THE DISTRESS, SILLY GIRL AND HER FUCKING MESS, CLEAN UP CLEAN UP WHILE YOU CAN, MAYBE THEY WON'T SEE THE MISTAKES YOU'VE MADE WE ARE THE FAILURE YOUTH, CLOUDING OUR MINDS WITH RUTHLESS HATE, DREAMING ABOUT A DIFFERENT FATE, WHEN YOU ONLY HAVE THIS ONE LIFE TO TAKE WE ARE THE WASTEFUL YOUTH, BLINDED BY THE EYES OF SILLY BOYS, AS SILLY GIRLS, CONTINUE TO BE OXYGEN THEIFS, WITH THEIR LIPS PUCKERED UP IN GLOSS, GRINDING TO THE RHYTHM OF THEIR HEART BEATS AND I'LL SAVE YOU A SEAT, TO WITNESS ALL THE CHAOS WE'VE DONE, SEE ALL THE KIDS ON THE RUN WE ARE THE DISGUSTING YOUTH, OUR VEINS ARE FILLED WITH POISON, OUR HEARTS SCREAM FOR HELP, AND WE ARE THE FUCKED UP YOUTH, WISHING TO ESCAPE THIS ROOF AND DREAMING ABOUT FREEDOM DESPITE HOW IT'S ALREADY IN FRONT OF U S WE ARE THE YOUTH THAT SCREAMS WAIT, WE ARE THE KIDS THAT JUST HATE, HATE, HATE, SOME WILL TIE RED RIBBONS ON THEIR SKIN, LUNGS COLLAPSE AND STOPS BREATHIN' WE ARE THE SLOW YOUTH, THE SLOWEST TO IMPROVE, BECAUSE THE SAD TRUTH IS, THIS GODDAMN PLANET WONT STOP TURNING, THE STARS WON'T STOP DYING, THE UNIVERSE WON'T EVER SLOW DOWN, JUST FOR THIS SILLY YOUTH TO FIX WHAT THEY'VE DONE NOW

Poisoned Youth, 5/24/16

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

Oh silly girl, your love is the purest I've ever seen, take a shot and perhaps you'll reach your romance, a situation I've always wanted to be in. Oh ignorant girl, your eyes reflect a shining hope, but he sees just another gullible girl. He'll treat you like a toy, sinking his nails into your skin, the pain makes you flinch, but you love him so you let him tatter your heart a little bit more. Your eyes glisten while his just bores onto yours. Oh darling, you write about his bright smile, how everything felt right just intertwining his slender fingers with yours, what a hopeless heart you have, forgetting what reality has in store, as he reads your lovely words and laughs, each note hitting you like it's your last. Oh foolish girl, those three words are just mere words, not a promise, an oath, a contract, you loathe every single fucking second that passes, while he leaves you alone on ashes, as you wait for his return. Idiotic girl, how stupid you are to think, that in just one blink, he'll love you as you love him, can't you see that will never happen? His eyes don't see your heart, they rather see your legs, what a waste. You thought he loved you, but he only liked your face. Ironically, that's the face you've learned to hate. Oh reckless girl, you see a pair of legs wrapped around his, glossy red lipstick touching skin, fingers caressing every single part of him, and you feel disgust rush to your tongue, you gag, and he sees you with no one. His eyes are empty, and you can tell he is not sorry Oh poor girl, do you wish for pity? Or maybe another sorry? You know his words are caked with lies, his electric eyes were not looking at your hopeless romantic ones. Oh stupid girl, ever since he left, you screamed the words left unsaid, the walls shake with every word that you yelled, every stutter, every crack, every piece of hurt that managed to escape from your mouth, he taught you how to cherish and love your bones rather than your skin, taught you how to never win, taught you how the feeling of scarlet seeping in has never felt so fucking good, but your therapist say that you should not ever invest in these destructive thoughts But you cannot stop. Broken girl, he has left you, can't you see? He had nothing to gift, nothing to save, nothing to live, nothing to hate, nothing to give, OH BROKEN GIRL, YOU FELL FOR HIS TRICK AND NOW YOU CAN'T GET OUT OF BED THESE SHEETS RESTRAINING YOU INSTEAD YOU WANT TO LIVE you want to die YOU WANT TO LOVE you want to hate CAN'T YOU JUST PICK? can't you just wait? YOU SEE THIS IS WHY you shouldn't love IT LEAVES YOU with nothing but dust, DESPITE HOW INFATUATION WORKS, I'm sorry girl, BUT THIS WILL NEVER MATCH your prediction, FOR THE LOVE IN YOUR EYES is nothing but FICTION

Hopeless romantics dealing with heartbreak, 5/24/16

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

You told me my eyes can use some sleep, that this darkness enveloping me are keeping me from being clean and you scolded me with words that hurt, but boy I knew they were worth it, but sometimes I wished I didn't hear them And you said my eyes can use some sleep, but baby this darkness is what I want to keep, I'm so used to this feeling, I'll push away whatever is trying to heal me And you said "you can't go on like this forever", but I did with little fear, I think I can go like this forever because I haven't seen hope in those past years Yeah, I think I can go on forever with this endless cycle of whoever kills me and whoever doesn't, I can go on forever to see those who cared about me, and those who didn't And you said my eyes can use some sleep, but I like seeing the shift of color in the sky from blue, to grey, to complete black, and you shook your head and told me to cut some slack, you spoke with a lovely, soft tone as you told me to lie down, and maybe for a brief second I thought the hatred that has me shackled in chains will lessen their grip as your voice healed every word that caused some parts of my skin to rip And you said you will never leave me, as for once my eyes start to close, you said this sleep is for the best, as your face was the last thing I saw before I rose, and when I woke up and the sun's lights blinded me, I swore that insomnia had it's grip on me tightening, and panic was overwhelming me You said my eyes can use some sleep, but the reason I was always awake was the fear that you would leave me, and now I find it difficult to learn how to feel, when you left me with a wound almost impossible to heal, and perhaps that is why the bittersweet feeling of sleep keeps me up at night, maybe this is why my panic leaves me in a state of fright, and with that last sight of your beautiful face, I stopped myself from being in such a haste, because sleep is just a waste, sleep is just a waste

Late Night Trauma, 11/1/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

It scares me how willing I am to leave everything I have and everyone I know I'm a flower in a vase and everyone around me are starting to grow But I'm wilted I've always been wilted Just there in the distance, waiting for something to happen, Waiting, always waiting, maybe that's why my leaves are turning paler every day and maybe it's because I've been rejecting the water that I lay My wandering eyes gaze upon the beautiful flowers surrounding me, they grow brighter as the sun continues to light across the sea, Oh I've been staring, always staring, never daring to see the mirror right behind me, I've been wishing, I've been hoping, about ideas that my eyes will never see Will a simple sorry be enough? I've been busy looking for a reason, but I suppose it's not enough for my actions look like treason once the moon kisses the sea and creates a brilliant light gleamin' I'll find a way to explain all I've done, in hopes it'll justify why I've been gone I've turned to the mirror, I see galaxies of millions stars right in front of me they're dancing under my eyes, in a twisted way it represents the many lies I've told, and before I lay on this bed, I hope my body turns cold I've lost my sense of liveliness along the way of seeking hopefulness, I don't deserve forgiveness in any indirect way, but I continue to plead in hopes your opinion will sway, believe me when I say that I'm not okay But my feelings are irrelevant, all I want is to hear your voice that same soothing tune that causes me to rejoice Tell me I still have tomorrow, tell me that it's not the end That sweet tune that drowns my sorrows, that voice I want to hear again

Your Voice Is What I Desire, 11/26/15

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

Bitter taste on the porcelain, smooth rim You stain my book, the inked words bleeding through My stress may rise up, my patience will dim I can't help but always depend on you From the welcoming warmth you tend to be To ice cold harsh, keeping eyes open wide You make the chase for endorphins easy Galaxies under my eyes, I can't hide You'll always be that familiar smooth, even beneath that cold layer of frost, that lovely warmth you'll always use to soothe especially in days I am distraught Please continue to wake me from my dream, like an alarm sunk into my bloodstream

Morning Coffee Sonnet, 5/11/16

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

Papers scattered around the wooden floor, of unfinished poetry, washed-up ink galore, creating a scent smothering me My body shall lay within the mess, eyes closed and breath hitching from lack of rest, I believe it's time to call it a day You can say I am uninspired, lazy, or maybe just waiting for nothing, but I have been continuously creating stories with no endings, and characters that will never exist Perhaps I want my life back in the shackles of dread, in order to feel something drip the color red Whatever feeling, does not depend, as long as that sadness can benefit my art, what can be the worst part? Everything seems to lack something, like my stories with no endings, the man I used to call darling never ceases to bore me lately, and grasping for education has been exhausting It's such a shame, I had potential, last time I remembered It's such a shame that it has been wasted for some useless lover that I once treasured

Writers Block from something tragic 5/23/16

[serenityinpoetry-blog]

The Galaxy embraced my bruised shoulders in an attempt to save me, but all it did was crush my weakened bones I couldn't withstand the monumental mass of stardust finding it's way between my fingertips and the unknown The Galaxy kissed me like a drowned man, as if my lips were air and he could not breathe, couldn't speak, leaving me with bruised lips as he topped over me like an eclipse The Galaxy is a mystery, when you look at him he is already enveloped by darkness, but the millions of stars, suns, planets, they are still within his madness, and the Galaxy is frightening he carries the largest mass in all existence, and yet, when you reach to him you feel lightweight The Galaxy wrote poems on my skin with the touch of his lust, and he showed me that my brown eyes still contained stardust, even though they were as dark as a human's sin The Galaxy had fire in his eyes that looked deep within the walls I've built around me Flames that couldn't be drowned by Earth's deepest oceans, an eternal, boundless emotion The Galaxy imbedded part of him in me, his stardust make up my eyes, and now all I see is wonder and poetry, even in the black that embraces him, I shall look forward towards the sunrise

Galaxy Lover 5/24/16