I will argue with you.
We will shout, scream, take
water, breathe, shake, wail, snot, cry
and go again a second time.
And we will be so alive
because we will have tried.
EdgeWhen you open your door
it’s like we’re already on your balcony,
My body stammers like we’re
Hanging off the edge,
Like crumbling concrete is
all that holds us up.
But you’re just silent like sunlight
and sipping on skyline,
Calm as cars rolling round the summer of the city,
And your hair is glowing with the sweetness
of half past three
and I’m only shaken with the feeling
of how much you love me
and only feeling hopeless
trying to brave telling you
- just as often as I feel it -
just how much that I love you
but I just know that you can tell
in the moments that we meet or
on the quiet of the balcony or
when I mumble in my sleep
and I know that I still panic
with a fear like falling fast
but when you kiss me day or night
the fear falls to the past.
WalksWe walk down the river
in the cold in the dark
with a quiet
spark in our step and a
wandering in our eyes,
Skies overcast we're throwing looks
at each other,
And I'm beside myself with feelings when you
sniff the air or breathe deep in the lift,
I'm home away from home
the moment we kiss,
And the second that you're gone
is the minute that you're missed.
FathomIf I could fathom your thoughts,
Sway the mood,
Ride a crest the best half-step
closer I've taken in awhile,
Roll the ripples into waves
of misbehaving tonight, then
seagull witnesses would whistle
under wonderful moonlight.
MeanderYou shoot a look back at me, and
my thoughts meander round
The way your moulded shoulders
slow roll, all low
slung, swung confident
as you can manage,
Your hiding hands trembling like
you feel you've lost your way,
And the quiet in your eyes
of the things you dare not say.
Strangers on TrainsThe train is a cradle,
The engine a lullaby,
The people inside unlikely dreams
in beams of sun
that come and go, and
the squeal of brakes, released
Poem for youYou have a voice
like slipping out of the driveway
late at night,
And hands tiny like twisting the key in the lock
smooth and slow
There's a a surf-roll wave of change in the room
When you pull a smile, it is like
watching the tide slide out
and the sun fall down,
I can hear only our breathing
and I'm shaken but bold
I see nothing but us as we're getting old.
Nike of SamothraceLike in old Greek stories
I can see Victory hanging
one winged over us,
Battered and broken and
along the way
she lost her head
But she's there all the same,
Standing still with robes in full motion
and flowing like the moonlight moves over
cars slipping out of town,
Gliding legs, marble smooth
and not making a sound,
And cold and cracked the Angel
withstands unsteady ground.
Some NightsI still whirl the circles
some nights, and spin
fired rings round Tartarus,
See suffering giants of men
Tears frozen to hot faces,
Pole-axed by paradox
and shuddering many levels lower
than the Hindu mountain make-believe
I'd promised myself we could achieve.
I'm still wreathed in you
some nights, and feel
the peppered smoke around my head,
See myself tiny
in the little hammock-curve of shoulders
watching the flicker of thoughts across
your gentle face,
This was once the way
I could escape that place.
And then comes the morning
and I am born again
and in me it began
and in me it ends.
Hannibal CallWe could matter,
And impose tiny toes
on entire fleets of feet out of
retreat, bring the heat of battle back to burn
the extremities, repeatedly
shake complacency off backs,
Crack-of-dawn and shaking blue fingers
bring the Hannibal call,
Sinew-twist with hair raising spin
of crooked axe,
trip a tank in its tracks
beating heart rhythms on busted shields
we'll see all their fates sealed -
It will cost almost all
for it all to be healed.
hallucinations and dreamsHow do I call you without losing the romance and mystery?
What ritual or dance is done to the moon to bring me your kisses?
The death of a being of such beauty is a spectacle that seems to me as sad as wonderful... I feel compelled to stop it.
Every night, when I retire quietly of your dreams, but not before leaving a black rose on your pillow, along with a note "Goodbye beautiful girl. You already have a place in my heart. "
For a moment, a feeling consumes me the idea of staying here by your side until I'm lifeless...
But then I think about the consequences of letting me die: my soul would rest, yes; but my body would miss you, and that pain could not bear a lifetime.
One sometimes die slow, and miss everything that has not happened yet, living in a fantasy, a fast and bright longing to that person who has not even turned around to see us ...
These are seemingly endless minutes, minutes where only exists pain and torture.
The pain becomes a pang.
The rumors are floating in the mist.
The FeelingLove is the feeling
Of being hit in the chest by a tidal wave,
A feeling as heavy and crushing
As earth thrown into a grave,
And it could pave
The way to happiness
Or lead us into Hell.
Love is that feeling
When nothing matters but then it does
In high definition
And in your head is an endless repetition
Of every moment you’ve ever
Love is that feeling
When someone else is your oxygen;
You need them to survive,
And every time you touch,
Even in your dreams,
Is the only time you feel alive.
Love is that feeling
Where everything is beautiful
Because your eyes have been stolen
By an angel
But everything is as secure
As it is fragile.
Love is that feeling
When you know it’s all over
But you can’t bring yourself to hate
Them because you want them to be happy,
Even if their happiness
Crocodile X reader: You're the only one for me.You were some what bummed that you didn't get the partner you wanted while the game played on. You even stayed behind to see if your secret crush even put in an item to play the game...but alas, he did not play. Whom was your secret crush? Well, that should be quite obvious...it was Crocodile!
You didn't know what it was, whether it was his hook, the scar across his face, the cigar or his muscular body...but mmmmm! Damn! He was a nice piece of work! But...you'd never say such thoughts out loud, hell you'd probably walk up to him and say 'I like sand too.." and then walk off hurriedly so that the biggest reaction you would probably get out of the former warlord would be a raised eye brow.
But seriously, he could have played and gotten seven minutes alone with any of the pretty ladies on that ship several years ago...but why didn't he? Well.. now was the time to ask him yourself. For there he was; sitting at a café, along with his blade-blade fruit partner. They were reading a newsp
cedar lungsOctober heart; you fell out of a tree-house.
Unaware and scared of not making it
to the lake before it froze over,
you rolled down the lane and ended up
on my front lawn under the big oleander
where my dad serenaded my mom on their
first date almost twenty years ago today.
Oh was it destiny?
No, I don't think so..
I don't believe in all that
psychic garbage, anyway.
Oh but I'd like to think
we'd had it coming when
we subconsciously made wishes on
falling stars when we were kids.
You wanted a friend, someone
who wouldn't run away when
you told him the sad stuff;
winter trauma, cars sliding
down Alberta highways.
I just wanted a letter from
a prison inmate; my brother,
some recognition that I was
still in his memory,
locked away for something
he did his last year of high school;
behind the sunflowers and the pines,
behind the dried-up lakes and rocky
state lines dividing
our traditional homes.
Oh where do we go when
there's no one around to listen
to our angry murmurings,
November SkyThis is where we come to get lost
Where the horizon meets with sudden
The ease of orange marmalade and honey
But passion strikes us in its reflection
Cascading desire for the unattainable
Burning blistering in our hands as we
Catch stars like fallen embers which arose
From fires burning to challenge the cold
In nights bewitching the tempest of twilight
Though silently soothing like cinnamon in fall