Camera

Can you see me?

Smiling still

Unready for the years that will inevitably pass before I reveal

The true wrinkles of my frowns

Beneath the painted face

Beyond the tiny lens that always fell upon my face.

Did you capture that?

The nails cracked beneath my teeth

And the flames of burning rage nestled beneath my feet.

You hung the pretty picture of my nape upon the fridge

But for years never asked why I never cradled you in that ridge.

Did you catch the timid pause

Of my spinning in the grass?

Surely you saw the eyes

behind that piece of glass.

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Ask Me Why I Loved You

Ask me why I loved you

and I will say a million things;

the way you brushed your teeth

to the way you were angry.

Ask me why I loved you

and I’ll think of all the ways,

you made me fall in love

each and every single day.

Ask me why I loved you

and I won’t mention all the nights

we pushed and pulled each other’s character into plight.

Ask me how I loved you when you pushed your pain on me,

like I should carry it from place to place carefree.

Ask me why I stayed

and I’ll let you in again.

I’ve always had a weakness

for the boy you’ve always been.

Ask me why I loved you

and in that moment I will say,

I couldn’t have loved you more

than the moment I walked away.

Days like These

Days like these

We worship.

We worship it,

Not for its perfection,

But for all the moments we wish we could have taken back.

For all the words we should have inhaled instead of spewed.

Days like these

We sit on our thrones alone

Because power comes at a mighty lonely price.

We practice our goodness but never quite get to genuine.

It’s days like these that remind us where we are.

Who has come before us

And how we will pave the way for the others.

Days that are long,
Hard,

And slow.

But worth every hustling minute.

We will remember the glory of these days

Not for its perfection

But for its purity.

Narcissus

I saw you crying once. 

Outside of the bedroom late at night.
We had washed up after a party and dragged in the same old, bitter fight. 

Who was I to you? Why couldn’t you show?

So here we are:
You on the livingroom floor.
Me, peering through a crack in the bedroom I wished wasn’t ours. A hallway of mirrors fall between us and we cannot reach each other through our own reflection.
We would only see ourselves.