the me in you

green, blue
a dichromatic hue;
who are you?

your eyes, 
they remind me of a different tune.

have i grown that accustomed to?
or have i sought out the same weight
only shifting my shoulders,
shruging off similarities;
the indent on my back is the same

kinds of pain,
though limited in spread
are frectals never-ending
in this timeless thread

rolling down the slippery slope
to find the ends have met and joined
to bring full circle,
what i could not find,
but have always found.

you and I were made to be,
but i’m tired of destiny.

dancing queen

you hate classy, even though your words flow smoother than the length of a prom dress. she twirls and spins, unknowing in her small talk i am more enthralled than with midnight conference calls. she steps back, i step forward – how you tease me with the key to your heart! it’s the key to everyone’s heart really.

open, close, open, close, open, close – i see metaphors in every inch of your face, but when tasked to write your literary essay, __________. I wish i could fill in your name.

i don’t like the song the DJ’s playing; too many pauses. but you’re still dancing and jumping and screaming – you yell and call me over. i tried, i really tried, but i can’t dance without music. i tried to hum a tune, but it’s too quiet and you can’t hear me over the crowd.

by the end of the night i’m plastered to the wall, drunk on fantasies, maybes, might be, you and me. my vision is blurry and my hands are shaking – i’m not heading home tonight. eventually, perhaps. i stagger to the corner, away from prying eyes, that i might expel my feelings to listening ears. i should’ve held back, i think to myself. it’s a little bit much for a single night.

you’re still dancing.

cluttered conversations

we’re in a crowd; i scream incoherently to grab your attention over the cacophony of foreign voices. except i’m soft, it’s quiet, and the only words i scream are in capital letters and ostentatious words, in the hopes that you’ll hear them. i can see you strain your ears, and you tilt them towards me. but your eyes drift and my words float aimlessly, like dust waiting for the wind to settle.

there will always be a crowd. and someday my throat will grow old and raspy, your ears coarse with the friction of trying, and we’ll let the voices cut through.

but sometimes,
some time,

we leave for the exit, and we step out into the silent night. there i can hear your voice again, like silk along my skin – i know you can hear me too. it’s so lovely to see you smile again.

they’re calling us back in, those silent strangers, and you turn your head for a second. you look back, and we continue our chatter. they call out your name, and eventually mine; we both remain silent, hoping for their words to fall through. yet they catch and tug at our heartstrings – no they don’t fall. and i know someday, somehow, we’ll have to join back the crowd.

but for now, i’ll reply your small talk with smiles and fluttered eyes, feeling your voice as it drifts into the night sky. the crowd is as noisy as ever, but

there isn’t a sound in the world that can make me forget your voice, no matter how hard they try.

water under the bridge

i went down the other day
to sneak a peek at your old face
even though i know it’s long rotten off.

yet beside you there i sat
along the riverside we wept
knowing that those moments that we shared,

no, they won’t last.

the current’s strong, blue deep
your eyes they serenade me back to sleep
perhaps i’ll lie along the bank with you.

but i can feel the crumbling ceiling,
fire started, now it’s spreading;
oh look at how it tumbles down.

and soon enough, there’ll be two sides,
as always was, you and I;
no more a piece, no – pieces broken off.

yet in this moment here i dwell,
beneath reality, frog in the well;

for this time, i’ll remember who we were.

the usual order

call off the search for my soul;
i can hear her ringtone;
we’re meeting at the usual place.

i left my thoughts of sonder asunder
as i weaved between friends and family;
how small they now seem.

but as she turned her head,
she wasn’t smiling –
not like how i wanted her to.

she looked confused at my presence.

my call log didn’t have her name,
but i felt vibrations anyway,
so i convinced myself i was insane

i’ve always felt it better that way.