Dance, by chance…

Remember that inebriated evening? 

The one where we finally met, by chance. 

We made our awkward introductions and then we danced our little slow dance. 

There was a buzzing static feel to the air, a electricity that lingered around our heads, while it clung to our hair.  

We forgot our surroundings as we twirled in sync. 

The colors ever changing, melting, and fluorescing. 

Left only to feel we did not think. 

Danced by chance in the electric air, but awoke to realize, we were never there. 

Goldenhour

Dear You (know who you are...)

It doesn't matter how hard I try not to be this washy..or how hard I try not to think of you. It doesn't matter that every day of my life is spent wondering what colors the sky would be if our suns set on the same horizon and each day I have to relive the shocking realization that we are just a delusion. We are a fantasy I'll never have here within my grasp. 

The parameters of your existence slip out of my fingers like the sand inside class that falls inside the hourglass, the grains that calculate the time of now as well as our past. The specks sift follow gravity, and we follow force like the pounding in my ventricles pumping a noxious mixture of blood and fear through my extremities. I have to scream but you will not hear me and your avoidance is evident. 

Let's Be Alone Together

"Babe, please, just stay the night..." He pleaded, his deep blue eyes widening with desperation dipped in ulterior motives. 

"No! I'm tired and I can't fucking take hearing you accuse me of wanting every guy that approaches me at work." She had a sharpness to her tone that hinted at rejection yet it just turned him on even more. 

"Awww, babe...you can take my Jag to work tomorrow!" He cooed in his most singsongy voice. As he did so he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head while slowly running his hands down her back. "Mhmmmm. Please babe?" He tried one more time. 

"Tyler! No! Stop it. Fuck off, I just want to be alone!" She protested, turning her face away the instant he tried to kiss her. 

"Remember, love? We are supposed to be alone together." 

If Gestures Spoke Volumes

I'm not even joking when I say I wish I never had to go back. I want to avoid it like the plague and hide among the tall grass reeds that scatter their way across eyelids, dashing and dotting our perception with shimmering golden flakes. 

And you wonder why you are prisoner inside that gilded cage? It's because you're evidently jaded, love.  

Yet no matter what you do you'll never clarify purpose, nor clarify life's fleeting and unpredictable life span.

If you could dust the flecks off and take a look in technicolor, you'd try to see me. You'd try to break free. 

Frankly

Silent Screams