Every time you look at me i can see it.

I can see into you.

And i ask you to look away

Because i know that look very well

--It's warm and magnificent

Most importantly i know how it feels to..

Notice when its gone

I know the fear of that a little too well

And i fear

I fear that the way you look at me changes

Like that of the one before you

I know it is of no fault of your own

But you chose a broken woman

A broken woman that can play the part extraordinarily well..

i only hope i don't diminish that look of yours all on my own --and

Destroy you along with it..

How hard it is to change;

Detachment,

Betrayal.

A traumatic event that's only incentive

To occur is to cause change

To drop red into a glass of

Colorless water

Stillness, ripples, stillness

Except now, the water is red

The red doesn't falter

The red is one and the same

The red is the drop

That incorporated itself within

No way is found to separate the red,

To redirect the water and render it colorless

The red is uncomfortable

Undeniably frustrating

And ever so..

Permanent.

June.

Summer evenings have a way of making us lose ourselves so i want to be alone.

Take the road less traveled into the lavender night.

There's something unspoken and hazy about June; the forgotten heat that drapes itself over bodies, how it brings the past to the surface of the skin tenderly, softly, a plum-colored bruise.

27.6.98

Are the things we see everyday, anything our minds attribute to insignificant.

Dangerous things, however, are also normal.

Does it ever occur to you that danger does not always equal panic alarm in our heads?

Is it not cruel that we do not seem to perceive an upcoming painful event as dangerous until it's too late?

Dangerous doesn't always correspond with a large specimen chasing us for dinner nor does it always mean poisonous foods.

Dangerous could be those things that poison our souls.

Danger is normal. It walks among us. Says hi to us and goodbye. It calls out i love you from a distance and for a time it feels just right. For a little while it makes sense.

When you register your fears and surprise this danger has already took its toll and you no longer are capable of preventing the poison.. the large animal caught on to you and now, you're slowly withering away.. your vitals and passions weakening just the same..

I never understood writers.

I never understood how writers gathered so much of their thoughts to create novels, volumes of stories.

I never understood those that write word after word, verse after verse, novel after novel..

until i began to write about the ache i feel as a result of losing you

I never understood breakdowns.

I never understood the powers of tears that could push through perfect composure...

what kind of power must thyself feel in which pain transcribes into harsh warm tears that can cause a storm to take place..

i never understood such pain until i realized the magnitude of my decisions..

I never understood how one can see images through music

Memories... dull memories that lost their light because they used to cause so much joy..

the right lyric, alongside the right rhythm can cause a strange phenomenon

Your heart begins to mimic the melody, you nerve endings begin to sense the discomfort the pang of resentment and anger because you know you cant blame anything on anyone but yourself..

I never understood the significance a place can hold...

at the end

Because through it all, you never thought that place meant anything..

then you find yourself subconsciously existing there...

hoping maybe.. they'll be there and by chance you'll catch a glimpse of what you've loved and lost..

I could write a million words describing i miss you breakdowns i've experienced that were triggered by songs we used to sing together at that place you loved so much that I didn't really care for but only recently began to love almost as much as i'll always love you simply because i know how significant it is to you..

Like drifting in a river to wherever the current takes you

No hopes, no dreams

Just plenty of time to be dazed.

Minutes turn to hours,

Then days and months

Until

Time is no longer a measurement used to sequence nonexistent events

Nothing.

Here's to the hearts that break...

This is for those that believe in magic, foolish as they may seem..

Those who dream more than they care to live a reality without love...

Those whose smiles are contagious...

Those that feel music in their veins...

Those that don't give up on romance

Don't give in to conventional things..

those that take the time for memorable gestures..

Those that know that in spite of my love for roses.. there's a flower i adore even more.

Those that are here but are also sipping coffee at a cafe opposite The Seine..

those that have cried so much, they can't but laugh at everything...

Those that are happy.. in spite of it all

Those that dream..

I don't want normal

And easy

And simple.

I want painful,

Difficult,

Devastating

Life-changing

Extraordinary

Love.

I've read and I've written, I've sang and I've spoken of a time where love was pure. Where things were simple and the universe was wide, but it seems, all those things were in another's mind for mine was chaos of purple and blue, normal and enchanting, loud and contradicting. I could never be satisfied with white. I never desired rest from my destructive mind, from my thoughts and ideas, from my ink stained heart.. all this I realized when i was seventeen.