you hang like laundry
above my head
waiting
for days
to dry
so i can fold you
and put you away
and never wear again

Unified in the future
but scattered now
and the things that left me alive
now only make things worse
so i'll sweep them away
like scraps of paper
from a homemade snowflake
that has melted
into summer

pure

It's ridiculous
how a hypocrite
can come off
as a poet
as an author
who knows everything
who is on a pedestal
a pedestal that will never fall
until it does
and amazement is disbelief
at the downfall of a symbol
a symbol of "all-knowing"
of the pure one,
But pure?
PURE
its not there now
was it ever there
you show no compassion
no sympathy
and you move on in a blinded fury
to something that will only kill who you once were
or
never were

Beauty

Beauty is..
THE NATURE OF GLASS
and-
how long will he live?
A heartbeat?
He's a superhero
in THE PAST
when he was not dead
not even wounded
with strong lungs
and the wrath
of a LIONESS.

Awareness,
So as not to fall back into a place
You’ve already been

A rib cage
Torn open
To let someone in

The unknown of a fog future
And separate/
Together lives

Youth in your eyes
Lending hope to your hands
And past to your voice

Self induced forgetfulness
That never makes sense
Or works for that matter

The familiar music
That made you cry,
And which
You probably don’t remember

The beauty that lies
In truth
And the lies that
Make truth beautiful

Yourself, your eyes
Your thoughts, your ideas
Your sins, your heart

Swiveling necks
In opposite
Directions

A forged friendship
Melted together
In the heat of tension

Waiting to hear what they have to say
A calling
To come back
To just never have left
In the first place
An indication of a mistake
The glint in the eye
Of a return

The beauty that lies in truth
and the lies that make truth beautiful