to stand still and yearn to go
you sit in silence,
ground moving beneath the soles of your shoes, beneath the tracks; cities rushing by, a blink of an eye–
and you're gone again
somewhere else, somewhere new,
pink trees and white skies and the smell of sunscreen in the air;
take a picture,
but the moment's already gone
and now you're driving through the night,
a different kind of calm,
except you're still here –
slowly realizing the magic
of standing still
and yearning to go.
good for you
I’m not good for you–
you, who crave to love and be loved
falling asleep in the arms of hope
free of tomorrow’s nightmares
I’m not good for you–
me, daughter of dying stars and useless daydreams words slipping through my fingers
and crumbling like fallen leaves
I’m not good for you–
a man with the universe in his eyes
and comfort in his touch
a gentle eventide after a harsh day
I’m not good for you–
a woman gone mad
from trying to find galaxies
and painting the sky red with starfire
but your turn of phrase,
moonlight spilling out of your every word,
a soft brush of midnight,
somehow feel like an eclipse in reverse
so maybe these stellar explosions
I can’t help but desire
should make way for the quietude of dusk an unhurried, restful slumber;
I’m not good for you–
but I want to be.
sunlight incarnate
He sits on the edge of the world,
turning a pair of sunstruck eyes
toward the skyline
something about the sight is startling
but really, it should be no surprise
that he’s brighter than sunshine
and so hours pass in this silent calm–
he looks on as another day dies,
Helios climbing back into the divine;
still, he stays golden, defying the dark,
and in that moment, I realize
I’d give anything to make him mine.
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