Hooked

I can’t seem to find you in the bodies I sleep with, nor the minds I explore,
These yearnings have always been at my fingertips,
Close enough to trace but never grasp.
But you know how short-lived these feelings have been,
And you never hold them against me.
I’m not through with you yet; I can’t seem to shake you.
Is that what it means to love someone?
Or must the feelings be as strong as the day I fell in love,
Powerful, thrumming with excitement, yet foreign in so many ways,
It turns the skies lilac, reflecting off the pink waters that pour from them.
I wish and pray and beg for relief from these constant emotions,
But the right words never leave my mouth, always stranded my tongue.
You laugh and skip around the thoughts in my head,
Never lingering to grant release. Always one step ahead,
I want to sink into you, but need your permission to fall,
And I know those words will never leave your lips,
So I dance and play around the things I want most,
Coming short time and time again on a feeling I cannot place,
Never fooling myself into believing the relapse you’ll give will be anything short of miraculous.

to wander the yellow brick road

She followed the yellow brick road in hopes of finding a lost dream,
Knowing that she would forever being wandering the great OZ,
Doomed to repeat what those before always failed to retain.
A love lost and a soul mystified by a romantic with a cynic heart,
To cowardly to give true love a chance, and she knows she will wander the road.
Meeting friends new and old, never able to settle for a simple life of happiness.
Perhaps she would gain entrance into the Emerald city,
Bright and clouded with feeling of others and none of them a place to call home,
Where happiness was a pill away, and everyone felt all but everything.

Once upon a time, this place was beautiful and unexplored,
She hoped and dreamed for a better life,
Beyond the fairytales of the girl who saved witches, and feel into a ruby lust,
To be a girl who gave it her all and came out on top of it all.
But happily ever after was never met to continue forever,
And so she is trapped in between the bricks of unsaid promises.
She knows why she wanders, but cannot admit her faults to herself,
So she conjures strangers with problems bigger than she, and sets to fix them,
Hoping to distract herself from her icy heart and dreaming mind.

She travels and travels, the brick road expands as far as her mind can imagine,
But she cannot imagine the horrors that come with a road as old as time.
The trees tell stories of an evil witch with poison apples and sickly green skin.
(But she knows the witch from more personal encounters than these urban legends)
She sometimes sees the monkey flying from tree to tree,
Watching and waiting for her to break from her gang of misfits,
But she holds tights to her basket and those ruby red heels,
After all, they are her ticket to power…or home.

She’s not sure which is more appealing anymore.
The pressure is so great, but how else can she escape her yellow brick road?
She has seen what too much magic can do to a person,
How corrupt and twisted and methodical—a witch isn’t born green with envy.
But maybe the brick road had already shaped her into something much more darker.
After all, the wizard wasn’t always a tragic man trapped in his hallucinations.
And she, only a human girl, once fascinated by the magic of an ethereal place,
Was now trapped on a never-ending road laced with gold,
Left to wander its bricks until the poppies gave away their pollen,
And slumber would be the only true chance of escape.

She followed the yellow brick road in hopes of something greater than she,
But a girl from Kansas was only as powerful as the winds that blew through,
The magic that laid within the tornado always dispersed in many ways,
Her ruby red heels could only walk so long as the yellow shined,
For her blue dress to bleed black and her skin to turn green with envy
(Jealous),
Of those with magic to change that yellow brick road, and those damn ruby heels.

where my cliff meets your sky

She lives life to the fullest, soundly and gravely,
Holding back only pieces of her soul that make her who she is,
She searches the stars for answer,
For surely the vast sky will bestow its worldly views with her,
Yet, the clouds always seem to float in and out of the way,
And she is left trying to pieces together the pattern of the stars in her head.

He lives life on the edge, huddled on the corner of a growing cliff,
He knows he just has to jump—
He’s ready for life to offer whatever it has at the bottom of the canyon,
Yet, as much as he tries to push himself forward,
That corner has grown strings deep enough to not be snapped by a leap of faith.

She wants and wishes and wills life to make her memories,
Full and lived, with a collection of shot glass that line the wall,
Filled with regret, happiness and adventures she can’t quite remember.
She wants to be a girl, who keeps bookmarks for each story that spoke to her soul,
Marking pages in her life, filled with wonder, heartbreak and contentment.

He waits and waits for someone to come along,
To push him when he cannot bring himself to fall,
And that is when she appears.

She finds him on a cliff; she views him living life so freely with arms wide open.
He finds her at the bottom of his edges; he views her as the thing he can fall into.

And together, the live life to the fullest,
Falling into each other at the bottom of the sky and the top of cliffs.

Words Spoken

“Darling, that dress has always looks better on the floor,”
I know, I think. That’s why I wore the dress.
But you already figured me out, there’s that knowing look in your eyes.
Selfishly, I crave your attention. Dress my self up and put me on display for all to see.

“Oh baby girl, look at how you smile in the light,
Dressed in your Sunday best, with thoughts of your dirty Saturday night,”
Your words dance around my brain as your fingers trace my thigh.
The lace seemingly out of place against my skin.

“It’s easy to play a saint among sinner, with a lover a beautiful as the fallen angel,”
I say, and you smile then, like I finally said something that made sense.
This is hardly the place to succumb to such desires, I know,
But it’s hard to think when you look at me that way.

“Why don’t we get outta here, have an adventure all our own?”
You’re standing before I finish the though, tripping to get to the car.
Adrenaline always ran high in lovers actually in love,
As our bodies desperately seeking relief among the flirting touches and caresses.

My Timeless Memory

If tonight it all we have left, drink one more bottle of wine with me,
And lets dance under the light of a star filled sky,
With the moon following in our footsteps, pulled by gravity,
Holding each other for whatever we are worth at that moment.
As our hearts flutter in sync, in time, with the music of the night,
Let us not dwell on the sorrow of goodbyes and last impressions.
Forever seems so far away when you’re in my arms,
So lets stop the clock and hold our promises to the hour’s hand,
As it stalls a minute past eternity, lingering on the 12 o’clock hour.

I’ve only got a second until you fade in front of me,
And our timing had never been in sync with our hearts desires,
But we made the best of a fucked up game of chance,
Coming out with so much more than we could have hoped.
By now, time is wondering what we have stolen from it,
(Because time is only important when it’s running out)
And she is vengeful thing, holding onto dying wishes and stolen breaths.
So goodbye to you, my timeless memory,
A lover, a friend, an enemy torn from the depths of my heart,
This is our final song; know that we made the best of it, and
Maybe one day we can dance on the moon without the fear of gravity pulling us apart.

This Run Down Bar

Listen to the words I sing into the mic, sensual and desperate,
Feeling good and different, knowing it can’t be the alcohol warming your veins.
These words, they will capture you in a trance, letting you sway,
But don’t sway too far to one side,
Because than you will no longer be able to feel what I do.

Love is but a background noise, in this run down little bar,
First you are not sure what you hear,
Words mumbled and lyrics sung on a key to low to be heard the first time.
Then, you are curious, ears perked as you strain to listen,
Not knowing that once you’ve heard her the siren song,
You would never be able to go without.

It’s not like the relationships you watch through rose-colored lens,
Scripted and written with just enough tragedies to be romantic.
But I still crave the feeling I’ve never been able to define.

The chaos in the beauty of this thing called love was always hard to hear,
Few could ever amount to something as timeless and composed,
But, now, she has become an all-consuming thing,
Every thought, every action and everything is because of her,
And you struggle to find who you are without her,
(But you adore what she has turned you into,
Smart mouth and ever feeling and emotional to a fault).
So let’s stop thinking about the timing of it all.
And just know that we made the best out of what little time we had.

Freef(all-in)g

Just as the sun sets and the moon takes her place,
This night we find ourselves in is only as young as we make it,
So lets drink to chances never taken and words never spoken,
All afraid to take a leap (But they are for the faithful, and I know I am not).

We sway and dance around our feelings,
Afraid that one word can destroy this fragile pretense of friendship,
But the liquor passing my lips destroys my rational thought,
And I am left with the feelings and sensations and actions of a girl without a care.

The pounding in my head and my heart make me dance,
Laughing and spinning, light on a feeling I’ll never know,
Smiling up at the stars and her stories.
I find you under the night sky, eyes drawn up, hooded in wonder,
And we fall into an easy pattern, needing a little more to push us over the edge.

Your eyes shine in the moonlight, as we drift closer,
I know the alcohol flowing through your veins is strong,
Giving you a confidence I don’t see in the sun,
But we have so much of the night left to explore, and,
It’s not just the rum that’s making my head spin,
As you kiss me, so soundly I can hear nothing but the hangover soon to come.
I haven’t drunk enough to think this was a good idea, yet,
So lets throw back one more shot for good luck,
And hope that when we wake in the morning, our bodies will forgive for our sins.

So when the sun kisses us and we are sedated from the aftermath,
Let us know that these feelings we dove into were pure and wanted.
But once the sun is fully settled in the sky,
Sober up and watch me fly, watch me fall,
Because there is nothing more tragic than a bird who’s afraid to fly,
Scared of the dangers and wonders only found in the sky above.
Yet, to fall is have the fun when it comes to flying,
Or so a little birdie has sung to me.

Falling In Love with Strangers

I find myself falling in love with the strangers I meet.
The allure they hold over the treasures they conceal,
That lay at the bottom of the oceans of their heart.
We meet in the strangest of ways,
At the bus stop, in the trails of the park we both wonder,
From places I’ve never been, and they find their way to me still.

They leave marks hidden in my skin,
Their fingerprints stained on my heart.
Their chains wrap around me, locked in infatuation and lust.
Each stranger exists in the hollows of my heart,
An enigma wrapped in love’s reasoning,
And I find solace comfort in the unknown of our connection.

Kiss my skin, your lips tell me the tales of forgotten love,
Whisper sweet nothing in my ear, and I’ll tell you anything you need to hear,
Give me the affection I crave, and I’ll give you heaven on Earth.
We build the greatest story ever told,
It happens in a week, a month, a year,
And they still end the same way.

Thus as quickly as the moment begins, it ends,
A simple moment in time, a distant dream,
Lost in the madness of reality.
Stranger things happen to those who don’t see,
The connection that can build from a single touch,
Sparks that ignite thoughts only a God bless,and a Devil can relish in.

They give enough to keep me intrigued, so
The game begins again as the star rises from the east.
And as the it sets I’ve set my sights on someone new.
In the twilight I confess my sins,
I can call it love until I begin to hate you.
For I cannot love someone I do not see myself in.

So I’ve found myself falling in love with each stranger I meet,
As each holds something I lack in the depths of my heart and mind.
Because falling in love with someone is easier when they don’t know your sins.

drown on his fingers

There once was a boy and girl,
Drawn to each other as naturally as the sun to the sky, the moon to the tide.
They drifted into each other,
Stumbling and colliding with enough force to create waves,
Waves that would change hearts if they let it.
But this boy and this girl,
They were so cautious, always obeying the warnings the stars gave,
Letting the cosmos dictate their affections and lust, their fate and who to trust.

So they let tides come and go, washing the shores, dimming their feelings with each teardrop.
And this girl, she found comfort along the shore with new lovers,
Letting their strange hands roam her body, covered by the salt water and sand,
Not letting the boy cross her mind;
Because there is nothing more tragic than wanting what you can’t have.
And though she wishes she could drown on his fingers alone,
There are always oceans between the two,
And she is left stranded on the beaches of a forgotten past time.
Yet, she finds herself lying on the sand, basking at the waters edge,
Waiting for the boy who she thought was as drawn to her as the moon to the tide,
Searching for the attraction that will pull her away from the safety of the shores—to the brink and back.

But it seems this mysterious boy only calls to her in the dead of night,
When the moon is high enough to light the way,
But not strong enough to keep him by her side,
(…When those strangers aren’t enough to keep her mind occupied.)
And she wakes lonely and cold each morning, aching in all the wrong places,
Left unsatisfied, yearning for something she could never claim as hers.
So the moon changes cycles, hiding for a time, covered by the darkness and stars,
And the boy and girl pretend that they have moved on too,
Because what else is there to do?
Until the moon shines brighter than their eyes,
And the cosmos finally concede to these young feeling hearts,
This boy and this girl, they are just ships passing in the night,
Longing and fixed on a desperation. Just waiting to collide.

Enticing Dynasties

The love of a king and queen is as told by kingdoms they rule,
With courted gestures and elicited caresses in the dark.
Never to shy away from the public’s eye, but cautioned to falsely advertise.
And the boys grow into men there are too young to understand,
Taught at an early age to respect nothing and take what is theirs by right,
A trait found among the cruelest of gods and kings.
His queen, in name only, becomes the most sought after woman.
Blessed with a mind that sees not her broken heart,
Resting heavy under the weight of a consuming crown.

So the queen grows into a woman ashamed of love
Accustomed to fleeting gestures of ill bent romance,
And his majesty grows bolder with power
Because he thinks he captured the heart of a secluded princess,
And now seeks to conquer the other fair maidens hearts.
So their tortured romance takes the form of envy and politic warfare
Leaving both to stitch the wounds and mend the scars,
Dancing under the watchful eye of the prying citizens.

And kings are immortal in the stories they leave behind,
For better or worse, remembered in the vague details of their dynasties.
Their queens washed away in mistresses and death.
Yet still their story remind written in the tales of time,
Meant as a tale to those bent towards death and immortality,
Broken by the tests of everything in between.
From the ashes they rise with clear morals and heavy hearts
Only to repeat the story of the king and queens before,
Stuck in the cycle of broken vows and misguided lusts,
Trapped by the explicated gestures made in the dark and,
The stories they told to the scholars of their time,
Forever to be remembered in the tales they wove.