Lucas Murley

I wish relationships were all about having the same interests, and loving one another as not only people, but souls - I really do.  But the sad reality is that they're not.  They're messy, and crude, and rough around the edges, and in many cases- It boils down to just luck.  The right people, at the right time, feeling exactly the same about one another.  It's a streak in the sky on a dark night, it's a shooting star of luck.  But I'll be damned if I let a little bad luck get in the way of my shooting star.

And in a second, Everything became clear.  Like the clouds parting for the sun on a dreadful day,  The hazy fog that plagued my mind was lifted.  And I saw not you in the puddle of my mind  But myself.

Give me love and sprinkle it with all things pure and sweet. Make it decadent like chocolate dipped strawberries, alive like the neon lights of the city night. Let me stare into the abyss and note feel like there will be someone to catch me, rather, that I have already been caught.  Love me just as the way love works.

I savoured every page of our love Like a good book  Until the very last word,  I loved you.

I sometimes think that our bones go together so well, That should we ever be buried apart,  And excavated decades later,  They'd have to put us in the same exhibit; Because we wouldn't look complete otherwise.

the last time i told you that i loved you,  you sadly looked away  and muttered into the pillow  'I love you too'.  you never could look someone in the eye and lie to them,  could you? 

how do i cry when all my tear ducts have since run dry 

You know, you were the closest thing that's felt like home since her. Maybe that's where I went wrong, I moved on from the home, but not the house. See, love is a lot like water, put it in anything and it will take its form. It is shapeless, sometimes invisible to the naked eye, but despite what it looks like, it is love nonetheless. I couldn't see this. I was so stuck on the familiar that your love didn't feel like love to me. So when the downpour finally ended, I was left dehydrated and dry.  I'm sorry, love, that it all had to end right as it had just begun. But that's the way of the weather, isn't it? To leave just as soon as it had come.

Ending up now Somewhere between  Oblivion and  Eternal peace.  There are butterflies in my chest  That now burst out more like knives  Than the release of your love.  The floodgates were closed  Many years ago and now Somehow  This ocean has run dry.  The fish are dead.  The sea is dead.  The ego is dead,  Nothing but a corpse  A husk of a former  Self  Now committed to ruin,  To decay.  It now makes sense to me as to why we would give a supposedly fictional god so much power, because in the hands of a single human lover, the world turns into a cataclysm of chaos.

She whispered lowly, 'Does this hurt as much for you as it does for me?'  He swallowed, choking back tears 'I hope not'

I never understood poets' strange obsessions with kissing the dead and lifeless - until your lips found mine.

if love is a staple, i live in poverty

Lies told to make you feel like you're On top of the world despite the  Vexatious feelings brought on by the constant falling for  Every which last excuse they make In sweet little words that you know are  Simply not true.  He can tell himself these same little lies all he wants, but  Eventually the truth and all its reality will catch up to him,  Leave him with nothing but broken feelings,  Leave him with nothing but himself.

The pen shakes And wobbles  More viciously than a shaky ship sailing against seven siren-calling seas.  What have you done to me, darling? I can barely keep my drink down,  Forgive me if I slur,  I'm just drunk off the hurt  Given by my great love's sharp spur.  How could you, darling? Alas, poor...  Boy.  Oh who am I kidding?  Alas, poor poet's heart! I knew it once darling, a vessel of infinite love, of most aspiring emotion  And now, how horrendous should it be so  Sickly,  Dead,  Forgotten.  This truly is the end, isn't it darling? Our lights have  Died and been consumed by our own stellar corpses,  Yet still we gravitate and now  We threaten the very fabric of existence  Of this ill-fated night sky.  We've since done away with storms  No longer will they trouble our hearts  And together now we will surely blister  Under the dry season to come.  But apart  We would sooner bury ourselves  Than forsake the rain which sustained us so.  Even if you're certain,  I'll wrap my arms around you still,  Entwine my fingers in yours,  And whisper in your ear  "Thank you for everything, my love"  Before burying the coffin.