cq

i'm a forming cloud.

i'm bound by cycles and all i'm around.

to seek independence would be too great a bout.

i'm stuck in this cycle and can't get out.

imprisoned by the thoughts that swim so freely.

i wish to be them and they wish to be me.

an oceanic drain left beneath me:

i may enter only to return incompletely.

Or would they be absorbed by an owl’s feathers during flight?

For not a single sound could find me in the bed where I lay.

Even speed became irrelevant amidst the density of night,

Yet my mind kept running in search of the company I craved.

I could only dream to find my spot under a starlit sky

And pray my words find you in their journey without light.

Silence accompanied by the occasional click of a pen or flip of a page.

All noises that are present become my silence.

The loudest presence in the room is light.

She’s always so eager to squeeze herself anywhere she can fit.

I don’t mind because, without her, my eyes would be deaf to her beauty.

To any beauty.

She adds life to everyone and everything.

I always questioned how beauty and freedom could be so real, yet stay glued to a timer.

Maybe she got tired just like everyone else.

Maybe she’s proof that all good things must eventually go away.

You would think that without such a dominant noise, it would be easier to focus.

This wasn’t the case with her.

No matter where I went, no matter what I did, I was always looking for her.

When she wasn’t there, I would find something artificial to take her place.

It’s never the same.

I learned to appreciate what I had at the expense of its absence.

You can lock yourself away and hope to find that peace, but it will never define itself like she did.

I found peace in her true beauty.

Her words kissed my skin and brought me warmth.

She is warmth. She is my silence.

She is the breath of a universe.

one crooked smile replaced by another

reflective eyes pierce my soul

diluted efforts reveal an empty hole

i plucked the sun and drank its pulp

i showered vitality with a single gulp

all just to add to the rings of saturn

one thought lost in a billion shards of matter

a thief in the mirror, a rose to my right

i trusted beauty only to have a thorn in my side

a ghost in the shell controlling my mind

left me searching for my stolen pride

time became relative as i ran to the stars

i would drink away galaxies just to feel the beat of my heart

i ran to infinity expecting it to end

frozen dream along the horizon’s bend.

One where I mistake the sunlight for your skin.

I dream of a wealthy place,

One where I’m buried in the riches of your love, deep within.

In my dream, we exist in tranquil space,

Only to be disturbed by your voice’s hymn.

In my dream, there exists no outer space,

For nothing is foreign where we begin.

i asked the stars to be my messengers

because i knew their words would be gentle.

their voices steering.

i spoke to one of the many night skies

because their light, you had always resembled.

you were near me.

your presence was more than a memory,

this experience was transcendental.

we are here free.

we exist beyond the limits of time

and space, two lovers inside a wormhole.

from achieving your goals.

the more you wait,

the more you mold

into something that’s stagnant

and bland in form.

run towards the sunlight,

there’s no need to look down.

your strides may cover

much more than solid ground.

there will be cracks in the sidewalk,

imperfections in number.

imperfections insignificant

to the relentless runner.

but i’m never in despair.

dissect me to discover

butterflies replacing my air.

how do you make me nervous

when this isn’t our first time here?

perhaps it’s hard to get used to

a love so young and rare.

we share a love made for angels,

a love to leave the stars in awe.

may our hearts be entangled,

to let the butterflies crawl.

they can share a place between us,

preserving a love so raw.

let them be proof that i love you

with every flaw and all.

let them be proof my love’s not dead

to be alive is to be bleeding

a ballpoint pen marked letters weaving

braided consonants and crocheted vowels

textile calligraphy made of clouds

dowsed in sugar and left out to dry

addictive clauses to get you high

you’ll fall in love with its sweet aroma

it’ll put you to sleep, disguised amonia

chemically crafted, a deceitful blend

these bloodshot vows will be your end.

tracing way across my skin

don’t forget about the hills

that are caused by my bones within

take your fingers on an adventure

tracing way across my scalp

make your way down my neck

and through the spinal alps

treat my body as your map

and don’t fear of what’s to come

take your mind on an adventure

and let your fingers run.

then your entry is my end.

the blade’s stuck for eternity

as ink runs from my pen.

creativity’s liquor

leaking poison through my head.

painting deceptive pictures

of the reality that i’m in.

I stare back, my efforts don’t return.

My cheeks are tight with the salted plaster that presses them to my bone.

They tell a story, I don’t care to listen.

I’ll have more chances to hear it.

My eyes only know two extremes, there is no in-between.

I can choose their profession, but that choice doesn’t lighten the burden of either.

Time is more present than ever, yet I don’t care about the future.

I’m too weak to show myself any other feeling, too dull.

I continue to stare at the void, “I won’t miss you.” This time it echoes back at me.

I feel smaller. I feel heavier. I become a black hole, but there’s nothing around to feed me.

I feel complete, yet not how I ever would’ve imagined.

It’s as if I can see fate through a telescope.

It’s so close, but I know it’s not here. I still have two hours before it arrives.

I’m never in a rush, but I always forget something.

I can live without it. I know it will sit here, waiting for me, grinning past the point of pleasure, always filled with ecstasy when it sees me.

Its mouth opens, then I’m gone.

he dressed her in his finest light, bringing out the blue in her eyes.

although the fire remained, she couldn’t help but see it was merely a disguise.

he loved her dearly, if love was set for a certain time,

because when his hours ended, his light would resign.

she would be foolish to think her story ended here,

for when his light vanished, her own would appear.

a dress of the cosmos with a milky way smear,

behold the stellar scribbles of a celestial engineer.