15

Courage is chameleon, disguising itself, knowing quite well we might reject it. Courage swallows up our demons, flying through our heads. It is exposed when we say hello for the first time, even though our fingers and toes tingle at the newness. Courage doesn't know if it's excitement or hesitance, drinking in only the thrill. As the conversations continue with our strangers, and transitions to friends; courage hides itself in the quiet offerings of ourselves. We trade our dreams and hopes, our failures and faults. Courage is coy then, as it usually is. The potential for rejection still looms here, and it always will. 

This chameleon shows itself most when we desire. Whether we argue or cry, want or need, we are requesting -sometimes begging- for something outside ourselves to make us happy. We are exposed most fully during these moments.

Our chameleons face the challenge fleeing, or succumbing and becoming the demons it's consumed for us. Courage sits at the fulcrum of which we balance our fears and our fantasies realized. Sometimes our desires align with another's so well... and other times they could very well tip the scales and cause everything to crash down.

Courage is also knowing how to not to crush someone else's chameleon demon too.  

14

Whispers your wants into the wind, building castles in the sky. I don't know how long these castles will last, the clouds change too quickly. They morph between my fears and your dreams until they scatter, splattered playfully. Let's big them bigger and better, we have no limits.  

The sun's rays will turn the cloud-walls to gold. When it disperses, let us hope that it leaves a prism of dripping gems as it floats away.

13

We hold on to our all our goodbyes. We tap them and eke out of them every single drop we can squeeze. We harvest them for no one but ourselves, savoring the seconds as they slip out of the hands we have to hold them. Our minds are simple sieves, only holding on to simple needs.

Time urges us on, as we're only visitors here. These moments were only stops to some destination unknown. If nothing else, time is a gracious guide and lets us relish what feelings or emotions our pauses bring to us. 

Even though we linger here, we know we can't stay for long. Living isn't staying here, and we can't stay; time is always moving on. Let's seal parts of ourselves in the words that we say, the photos that we take, and the laughs that we create. If time takes me to a separate place, at least somewhere we knew we had those days. 

12

I know you've seen the summer trees, where the sun makes gold their green leaves. The glow was trapped as the sun kissed each one goodbye, or hello, depending on how this story is supposed to go.

The sun reminded us everyday that summer was not here to stay. At least we can watch the green leaves burn brighter still, when they slowly turn crimson as the weather begins to chill.

Let's try not to fall while winter comes. I might go somewhere warm and follow the sun. But you know, maybe I'll stay here while the snowflakes float through. Especially since I hear that the falling snow glows too.

11

Peel me away layer by layer, and strip me of my shields. You've let me repulse you and draw from you all the tears. As you rip into my flesh, you tell me I'm stronger than I think. With our eyes watering, I simply say that maybe I've just always been that way. As my skin falls away, your tears fall even harder; you keep ripping, telling me you can't even get enough of me. You take as much of me as I can give, until there's nothing. The tears were still falling. 

All that hid the tiny me was laid bare and foreign at my feet. 

I didn't see anything after everything I held so dearly was stripped away. Even through your drying eyes, you saw something good in my core. A small sprout, of hope or despair, who knows. It just needed to grow.

But like anything else, that takes time, and how much of it is unknown.

10

These words were thick and sweet and foreign. I rolled them around on my tongue and to the roof of my mouth, seeing if I could separate the strange syrup from myself. I could not and it only spread further as I clicked and tangled my tongue. My mouth dried suddenly, and I knew that these saccharine sentences would make me sick.  

I knew better than to let the words consume me, so I consumed them. These words would become a part of me, I was sure of it. I could feel this sweetness quickly turn to some sort of sick, and my body heaved. It was too much to keep in, but too terrible to let out. I held that in too. I was not letting the words come out and unleash unknown demons. 

I was the monster, and all the sugar and sweetness could not change that.

9

Your breath grazed my skin and it rose in anticipation. The air was charged like lightning from the sky and I held still in hesitation. My pulse quickened and thundered through my body, turning from a faraway warning to a deafening roar. A tempest was brewing between us, cycling between the rain and our clouded judgment.

Lightning had yet to strike.

The storm swirled around us as we ran from cover. Reason had disappeared with the sun too long ago. There was no where to hide now. Your breathing became erratic and the winds blew stronger still. I hushed mine, as if that simple act could possibly ground me.

Lightning struck.

My body stilled at the contact and was set alight. With the gusts at full force, lightning struck again. The expanding air and increasing closeness echoed the reverberation of our bodies so wondrously out of sync. The sweat slinked off our bodies, desperately trying to extinguish what we had ignited.  

There was nothing anchoring us now and we blew dangerously, recklessly, with the wind through the night. 

8

The darkness always took you.

The sunlight came and you came with it, dancing on the doors of waking dreams. We played as the sun stood guard from staying shadows at the seams. Even as it kept watch, the darkness lingered behind the unknown, deeper still behind your eyes. When the sun set, we were not so shielded. It became brave and obtrusive; creeping from your eyes, then reflected on your face.

Even as we tried to keep the sun in our step, the reflected sun could not keep joy the same way. As the night went on, darkness became stronger, taking you with it. It ate your insides and dulled your outsides while I held on to your disappearing hand. I called to you softly, but the fog was too hard to hear through. Though I stood in front of you, I knew you didn't see me.

The night took you as it always did, and I knew better than to stop it. If I tried, it would take me too. I knew that. I saw it. 

7

I was fine(d).

Fine: a bold faced lie through a bared-teeth smile; a deflection of the questions from prying minds; an acknowledgment of scales balanced just right.

Fine is a damnable word. Everything is fine when we fly through the city nights, watching the streets transform into tarmacs before our eyes. Everything is fine when we conceal our wounds on the world's stage, hoping to play the part well, but not well enough. Everything is fine when we see both here and there, and slowly realize that this goes no where. 

We paid the fine for speeding through the nights, the blue lights reflecting in our love-drunk eyes. The moments finally cornered us, full forced and strong. We surrendered and it beat us, wanting to win more than we wanted to lose. Surrounded, we were forced to look these moments in the eyes and acknowledge that there was no where to hide. 

Fine pays itself in the seconds that it's said. It is the price for the wonderfully wounded and the recklessly resilient. 

We were fine(d), but we won't be anymore. 

6

Almost, but not quite.

That's what you say to a child who's an inch shy of 48. Denying him the fear and exhilaration that the roller coaster can bring is safe and sorrowful. Restrict him by the threshold and he'll never know the thrill. Let him ride and fear may seize him forever.

Fortunately, you don't need to make the choice. We already know he isn't ready now. We have paper rules and uncrossed lines to tell us so. He isn't ready now, and all he needs is time. One day, he will be ready to choose what it is he wants, so let us hope he chooses well.

We stand here at the cusp, not as lucky. We're not shy of 48 seconds, minutes, hours, days? Time is ours for the taking, with an amount undefined. Not counting down the moments, but counting up the time. Excuses don't exist when we make the rules. But even the rules don't say where to cross the lines, especially when the end is undefined.

What do you do then if you don't exactly know the end? If you're asking if it's almost, but always knowing it's not quite?

5

Even on the darkest nights, the lean light fingers tickle her face. The moon beams, trickling to the sea, quietly manipulating the secondhand sun. No matter how far he is from her, he's always searching for her, chasing after her, reaching for her. Sometimes she's a little coy and hides behind the earth, shyly out of view. He always finds her and for that, she could not be more delighted.

On her darker days, she turns away from him. Hiding in shame's shadow,  she keeps herself from turning back. The sun reaches with warm rays, patiently comforting her until she was ready. It was never easy, comforting her. She was as cold as he was unrelenting, and he would wait until she returned to him… Yet.

Sometimes the moon would hide so fully behind the earth that the sun could not reach or see her. The sun would never see the moon's heart raw, as the earth always blocked the view. We could only watch the crimson break bleed, as we were too far to reach or even stay. Perhaps it was better this way; what would happen when the sun breaks?

They played through the cycle endlessly, and never tired and never strayed. There was never a question of what they could endure, but what would happen if the eclipse had stayed? 

4

I want to name perfect moments. They're not first dates or anniversaries or engagements or weddings, though those could be perfect too. Those moments lie in the everyday, where life is a quiet driver, speeding us along.

Perfect moments aren't always made in the grand gestures that seemingly significant dates bring. Those moments are found in the quiet ones where I've watched you slowly smile with relief when you thought I might have screamed. Or the nuances in the way you cut your steaks while I've struggled with a spoon. Or your fingers when you try to tame the wildest of my hairs as I try to fix yours too.  

But... The most perfect moments are the ones where you've caught my eye, and quietly, I knew exactly why.

Always, right there, life stopped its drive, just for a little while, before passing the moment by.

3

Have you ever thought of the sky and sea and see the boundless you and me? 

The two, separated by the horizon, always touch but never tango. They tiptoe around unwavering lines, trying not to be more than halfway. Lying parallel, they play, with color reflecting from one, or is it the other? 

But when night falls, and the world becomes quiet, you could not tell the two apart. The darkness merged the sea and sky as the sun slipped away. In the places where darkness screams the loudest, where you can see the two tango, they intertwined gracefully. Stars become buoys and seafoam turns to clouds. Their expanse doubled in those moments, and it almost felt as if the land became islands floating in air.

Let us be our own together and both infinite and endless, apart. Let us silence darkness with dreams as it sighs under the weight of impossibility realized.

2

Darling did you ever think that the streets are letters to the sky? That maybe the turns are the letter U and the lights are where we dot the Is?

Perhaps the cars trace over repeated lines, made anew with the bright headlights. Maybe forks are where I tell you Y and how we didn't see the signs. I don't know all the words these roads spell, but I'm sure there weren't enough of them, as far as I could tell. 

Even as the world turns, the letters are just made anew. Darling, if nothing else, please know that I [street] you.

1

Even as the salt stung her eyes and the sun cracked her lips, she could never reject the sea's embrace. Even as she shook on the earth, her footing was sure at sea. No matter how gently it cradled or how roughly it reached, it always knew exactly what she needed.

The sea knew each curve in her body and it knew each strand of her hair. The sea knew it could not keep her, and it knew she could not stay.

They spent the sunlight together to keep all worries at bay. When dawn became dusk, they lingered in the sand, before she walked away. The sea hesitated, then reached, watching as it pooled in her footprints. No matter how many times they did this, the sea always tried too late.

It's hard to say which was more tragic; as the sea would never leave her, but she could never stay.

welcome to my blog. let's see how all this goes.