Write with blood

When I write, I write with blood. Words swim in veins beneath my skin, traveling the landscape of my body. It’s the process of retrieving them that’s the hard part.

Sometimes they come clean like a nurse collecting blood with a needle. It stings but leaves no trace.

Other times, words itch and beg to be released. With fingernails I dig, opening wounds like a soldier searching for a bullet inside an arm. It leaves scars and empty holes where nouns and verbs used to be.

It hurts but it needs to be written, needs to be said.

Like sand

You slip out of my grasp like sand,

I try to pick you up, but the story of us is already gone with the wind.

Only few pieces of sparkling glass

are left to cut my already bleeding heart.

blood is dripping slowly,

so dark, so warm

the glass, it hurts...

but I love it,

because it reminds me of you,

and I need it,

I can have only that now.

A memory.

Nothing more.

Twin souls

I've heard them say, that a soul mate is not the person who makes you the happiest, but the one who makes you feel the most, the person who conducts your heart.

A soul mate is the person who can quietly stir your soul the loudest, who can drag you giggling with forgiveness from the cellar they've locked you in and you can't be mad at this person, because they are connected to you in a way no one else ever will be.

You are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. Twin souls.

Silence

I love early mornings when it feels like the rest of the world is still fast asleep and you're the only one who's awake and everything feels like it isn't really real and you kind of forget about all your problems because for now, it's just you, the world and the sunrise.

I am everywhere

I am the view of any sunset

on any skyline

from any highway

which still spells Cincinnati in cursive

on the back of my eyelids.

Pretend for one moment you are me

because you are.

I have always been your moment,

the first time

any time

this universe exploded inside your stomach

and you could not stop saying

I love you.

night windows

as I drive at night
I pass by houses
with night windows.

their curtains, drawn back
warm light glowing softly out
through open shades

i pretend they're inviting me to enjoy the picture perfect scene framed in their night window

the walls inside night windows are always a toasty orangey red, like fires and wine and cinnamon bread, glowing pleasantly like they've captured the harvest moon and plugged it into their wall.

In winter
Christmas trees sprinkled with sparkling white lights
colored lights
twinkling lights
gleam like the night sky.

inside night windows
you catch glimpses of families
happily gathered at the supper table,
of smiling children
and people laughing in silence
ever so quick flashes of love as you pass by their night window

so peaceful
unblemished in a broken world

love radiating through the open shades effervescently
silently
beautifully

homes flawlessly decorated
spotless
sublime

everything in a night window is absolutely perfect in every way.

night windows
will always make me smile...

walk my heart line

I sometimes catch myself staring at the lines in my hands and I keep thinking that one day I will build a city and recreate the lines in my palms with roads and streets and alleys.

I will line these streets with stores and cafes, libraries and theatres. There will be parks in place of my fingertips with benches at every corner.

I’ll take you there one day and we’ll walk my heart line and we’ll laugh because this city was built only for the two of us. These streets, they go nowhere.

Try

I used to try and write you into words. I would try and assemble all of your 206 bones into the letters of a poem with your teeth as commas and your freckles as periods.

I would try and capture your laughter and confine it to the margins on the page but no hyperbole or no metaphor would express it right.

I realized that you were already a poem being written by life itself and I could only be the reader who stays up all night, devouring your words..,

Layers

There are sometimes when my skin feels so heavy like it’s been soaked in water and it refuses to dry, sometimes when it weighs me down just like the words I never say weigh down my heart. And I get this overwhelming desire to just unzip my skin and step outside of it for awhile.

Sometimes I think walking around as a skeleton with the inner workings of our bodies on display for everyone to see would make the world a more compassionate place.

You would see the girl with the bruised heart and reach out for her hand, you would see the man with cracked bones and offer him your seat, you would see the boy with his mind a mess and say “You have a nice smile”.

It would be easier without the layers and layers building us to be “strong”. It would be easier.

Three times

Someone once told me, that before you die, you must fall in love three times.

You must fall in love with your best friend once, ruining your friendship forever. This will teach you who your true friends are, and the fine line between friendship and more.

You must fall in love with someone you believe to be perfect once. You will learn that no one is perfect, and that you should never be treated as any less than you deserve.

You must fall in love with someone that is exactly like you once. This will teach you about who you are, and who you want to be.

And when you’re through with all that, you'll learn that the people who care about you the most are the ones that you hurt, and the ones that hurt you are the ones that you needed the most.

But most of all, you'll learn that love is only a concept and is not something that can be defined, it is different to each person that experiences it. And you will learn to respect each and every person on this earth, knowing that everyone only wants to be loved.

Ideal World

In another world we would be two hippies traveling the world. People would often wonder, how are they okay with that? How are they okay as strays? And we would always wonder, how are they okay with chains? How are they okay to not be free?

We’d travel around the world together, you and me, happy and innocent, beautiful and funny.

In an ideal world we’d be free to be in love.

Doomed nights and no one waiting for us in the morning...

confession to make

the chemistry
between liars like you and me
ignites like gasoline

i've got a confession to make...
i'm your fool.

the heart

the heart, it steers everything into motion. it tells me stories about love, about loss, about the chance of a future. i believe there is so much beauty inside us, its buried right under your skin, and sometimes, in your weakest moment , it shines.

i am not one to preach about romance, or God, or even the good and the bad inside each of us, but i do believe in emotion. and i believe people are most beautiful when at their most vulnerable. they show something real, they involuntarily share something with you, their secrets.

i believe that life is meant to be lived with the heart. i believe that the brain is there to remind us to be smart, but only when at our weakest. it isn't about being careful, or about setting up safety nets before you leap. it's about leaping without a single fucking thought in your head, it's about letting yourself crash, about letting something destroy you. it's about letting everything in, letting love in, whether it be to a man, or a woman, or even a passion, its about not being afraid to break into pieces.

it's about physically wanting someone, about the traces of your breath near your neck in cold weather, its about glances at people you're too afraid to fall for, but fall for anyway. i think there's so much to life that so many people miss, it's like they live, and never figure out why.

but whether it takes you to the highest cloud, or it drags you down to hell, just remember, rock bottom is a fucking beautiful place to start.

falling hundreds of stories

nothing to hold onto but our fears

I want to run

headfirst into a crumbling building

and collapse to the ground

with smoke in my lungs,

I want to light a match

and watch the world burn

crimson and gold.

But I am afraid of things

like fire

and heights,

so when I say

let’s throw ourselves

from the three hundredth floor

of a skyscraper,

I hope you’ll consider

falling hundreds of stories

with me.