Tag: Poetry

my way of asking for your forevers…

i can’t say them.
i can’t say those three words.

i can’t say it in three words…
i can’t speak these things small.
i don’t feel these things ordinary.
and i can’t look at you and feel. these. things.
and fit them into predetermined patterns
and pre-ordered packages,
or practice how to speak them
in a rented ballroom,
or repeat them as a morning habit…
these are star things, and soul things,
and all of my everything, things…
so when you say…
do you, will you?
i do, and i will…
but out here where it’s wild,
and up here where it’s infinite,
and in me where i feel you,
where i’ve always. felt. you…
even before this. and where i’ll feel you
after this, and beyond this…

so what i can’t say means nothing.
and it means everything.

and what i mean when i say to you…
burn out the stars with me

…that’s my way of asking for your forevers.

– butterflies rising

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in his sleep…

the way he speaks of me in his sleep

there are
things he holds
close, in the awake,
in the lucid,
things he feels, but he fears
how they might fall out so helpless,
so unarmed, so defenseless…
and god, how those walls
can make me question.

but then he dreams with an open chest,
and he tells me of what he’s sure of,
and that i can let my head rest,
‘cause this isn’t a small love,
and that most times it feels like too much love,
and so sometimes… he’s just afraid.

so my fears… they just fall quiet
with the way he speaks to me
in his sleep.

he may have a
hardened chest in the wake light,
but there are flowers in the moonlight,
and when his fears fall quiet…
there are all these things he feels
when his defenses are down.

– butterflies rising

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breathing in a life…

i've been letting go of heavy things - butterflies rising

i’ve been letting go
of heavy things

and i’ve been healing
a spirit, and tending to a soul, and
listening to a heart. and i’ve started to
exhale. and to breathe in… and to
breathe. in. a life

…and i’ve been letting go of
so, so many heavy things

– butterflies rising

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wolves and lovers…

wolves and lovers...

wolves and lovers,
restless and running wild,
we need more than an
ordinary love and a tamed life
because some aches are
made of everything. craving. everything.
from the soul-deep to being
tangled up in heartbeats
and bite marks and body heat…
driven by instincts and
drunk on moonlight,
we need a life made of things
we can chew on,
and nights where we find
ourselves when we lose a little sleep
and we feel the blood in our veins
and the passion in our chests
like kerosene…
so i’ll go with you, if you’ll come with me…
and we’ll burn… we’ll run… we’ll love.

– butterflies rising

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