Day to Day

I am not a graceful person.
I am not a Sunday morning,
Or a Friday sunset.
I am 2 am on a Tuesday,
I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks,
I am a broken window during February.
My bones crack on a nightly basis.
I fall from elegance with a dull thud,
And I apologize for my awkward sadness.
I often believe I don't belong around people,
That I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen.
The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm.
You don't see the lightning,
But you hear the echoes.

Supernova

And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.” - C.S. Lewis
--
People are like stars
Something happens to burst us open
And we think we are dying
But we’re actually turning into a supernova.
When I burst open,
My last breath is going to rush out of me
Like a stellar explosion that
Briefly outshines our entire galaxy.
Einstein told us,
Energy cannot be created
Or destroyed.
It can only be changed
From one form to another. 
So don't you tell me
There is no life after death
When every atom in our bodies
Was created in a star.
I have galaxies in my mind,
So do not tell me I cannot shine.
And when you stand transfixed
Under the expanse of stars in the sky,
Realizing that each star
Is actually a raging sun,
Do not feel insignificant.
Instead, remember you are a star
In someone's sky.
Remember you shine 
Brighter than the sun.
Remember you are stellar.
You are galactic.
You have dust and stars
In your bones.

There are as many atoms
In a single molecule of your DNA
As there are stars in a galaxy.
So remember:
You are a universe.
You are my world.

JB

Live Wire

She is not one to tread quietly,
Leaving small footprints as she goes.
She will not be a silent force in your life.
She will come crashing in,
Like a violent ocean wave.
And you will let her.
Because she is an electric beauty,
With the blood of the stars
Running through her veins.
She is a live wire,
So know in the end
That she will burn you.
And you will let her.
Because she is the first person
To make you feel alive since
You don't remember when.
And she sounds elegant
Even when she says the word "Fuck".
 You will love her to the point of madness,
And she will let you.

How This Ends

My green-eyed lover,
With your touch
As soft and slow
As your voice.
I feel you smile
Beneath my lips.
Perhaps in another life,
We were more
Than whatever it is
We are now.
Perhaps you once
Fixed my broken wing,
And showed me how to love again.
But not now my darling,
Not now.
You are not my cure,
You are my morphine.
A drug to ebb the pain
In the middle of the night.
The fire in my chest,
Burns a little less hotter
When my fingers
Are roaming your body
Like new territory.
And then,
I press my feet to your cold floor.
I dress in the dark.
And that my dear,
Is how this ends.

Do Not Tell Her You Love Her

Do not tell her you love her
Because of how her eyes shine
In the middle of the night.
Do not tell her you love her
Because of how she smiles
After every savory kiss.
Do not tell her you love her
Because she laughs
When you tease her.
Do not tell her you love her
Because of the sweet promises
She whispers in your ear.
Do not tell her you love her
To get her into your bed
Or to keep her from leaving.
 Please, do not tell her you love her
Just because she loves you.

What We Fear

The undiscovered country from whose
Borne no traveler returns.

To fall into the dark pits of oblivion,
Is the only way to know.
To drown in the murky depths
Of the labyrinth,
Is the only way out.

Claustrophobic

I am the shrinking girl.

I fold myself over and over,

I shrug into unoccupied corners,

So as not to take up too much room.

I can feel myself wasting away,

Shrinking into nonexistence,

In order to fit into the smallest of spaces.

But it is getting harder for me to breathe, I cannot remember the last time I stretched my fingers as far as they can reach, I cannot remember the last time I did not feel claustrophobic.

 For not being able to handle small spaces,

 I sure shove myself into a lot of them.

All I needed,

Was some space of my own.

All I needed,

Was for you to say:

"You deserve to take up space".

Odd Delight

Strange is not what we aim for.
We aim instead,
To be strangely beautiful.

We imagine of the day,
Someone catches us
In our odd delight.

And falls in love.
But I have found,
Beneath the act of
Our differentness

We are all,
Quite tragically ordinary.