The moon is shy
She likes to hide herself away
Always partly cloaked in darkness
But at the right moment
The right time
The right energy
You see her in all her glowing glory

the stars remind me of things
that they will never remind you of
you will look at the stars
and not think of anything but what they are
i will look at the stars and think of you
always
i will always look up at the stars
hoping that you are too
but within the stars i see you
i read them like braille
as they tell me our story
at the very least
the ones in our memories

i have never loved anybody the way i loved you
i’m afraid that i never will
i know not all love is the same
but must you be the one i never forget
must you be the one i compare to all the rest
maybe it’s not you
yeah, you weren’t perfect
perhaps you were just the first time
i put my all into somebody

I’m putting my entire soul
Into somebody
Who i feel isn’t even meant for me

Why do i get attached so easily?
With these attachments
My soul breaks away
When it’s time to move on
They still have a piece of me with them

Simple things are the most beautiful
But to find beauty in simplicity
You must fall in love with the mundane
With ordinary life.
Falling in love with a soul is anything but simple
Yet it is the simple things that makes falling in love easier
A beautiful word, carelessly mentioned
The shape of one's heart, visible through their eyes
Your eyes
Hands and collarbones
Simple things that another may not even notice
You may never even guess
But every small mundane thing adds up
And creates

a perfect canvas can get away with anything,
even destruction.
nothing done to it will destroy it, only make it shine.
add this, and add that.
pile on all the things that made everybody else undesirable.
instead of revolting, you become art.
was it a transformation of the hands or one of the eyes?
it’s like you had become adorned with colour and shine
instead of a veil to hide your reality.
the blandness beneath,
or the stark truth behind you.

mayhap it was a transformation of the heart.
it seems as though one may have bartered their life
just to be worthy of a glimpse
for five more minutes.
perhaps not merely a glimpse,
more, a lifetime.
what is it about

i think people don’t ever understand what i mean
he hands her his cigarette
as if in wordless consolation
she does not smoke
and she has never touched a cigarette until this moment
she meets his extended hand half way
she wraps her fingers around the instrument
as if it were a crutch
your cigarette anchors you
she tells him, but does not think he understands
he anchors her
anchor on rocky bay
the world around them is the wind
and she is the boat
mercilessly, harshly rocked
on the water's surface
until she is hitting the rocky shore
over and over
over and over
hurting
just to stay anchored to him
i wish you understood.