Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

I walk barefoot on sidewalks

and my socks rarely match when worn.

My headphones are my best accessory

Yet my best feature is the color my eyes turn when I cry.

Rain is my favorite soundtrack.

I let it ruin my hair as I walk to its music.

Sometimes my heart strikes lightning

Yet I'm not great at biting the thunder that rolls off my tongue

I'm a risk taker when it comes to my heart 

Its 3 dimensional and loudly beats on my sleeve

It's only desire is to have fingers run over the scars

and kiss the stories behind them perfectly with their lips 

Yet your hands are still far to distant from mine. 

Poetry is like an art museum, I visit as often as I can

Imagining the  words as patterns of raindrops on my window. 

I still like writing by hand more than I like typing with keys

Yet I still haven't filled enough pages with blood

I like to sit at the piano and play old memories

They come at the tempo of 6/8 with a metronome

I smile as music comes from my small fingertips

Yet my biggest regret is the day I left the bench

I love summer dresses, and smiles in-between kisses

and romance is traced in the pigments in my skin.

I'm shy at first impression, and sweet on your tongue

Yet my hazel eyes sure know how to burn your soul. 

Mix Tape of You and I

Girls dream of boys giving them a Mix tape

And you and I started one the day we met.

In cursive handwriting, you wrote a list

of the songs you were dying for me to hear.

Eric Church, 

Eli Young Band 

My Chemical Romance

Johnny Cash, 

Tracy Chapman, 

Angels and Airwaves

These were your picks that added to the list.

Ed Sheeran

Gregory Alan Isakov

Were your favorites of mine.

You never knew I watched you  as titled the list "Thinking of Her."

Only, we didn't realize it was only the beginning 

of  a compilation of music simply titled "Love."

And we fell in love deeply, the playlist became our background noise.

and our lips seemed to fall in rhythm to it as we kissed to its beat.

But sooner or later, every song on the list ended.

And in march you took the playlist with you,

not sure anymore of the music it once played. 

I held on to every note, and every measure

and held my breath as I listened to the lyrics alone.

I took a sharpie and re-titled the mix-tape "Why?"

And its questions and fear played on repeat for months.

But that didn't stop me from replaying the music we once made. 

And I didn't dare push the skip button. 

I wonder the moment you heard our playlist,

the moment you remembered it's beauty.

Was it playing in a grocery store?

or play from the radio in Truck 120? 

Did you go searching  for the music?

Hoping to find me in the words?

I saw you for the first time yesterday,

since you left me with the soundtrack of wonder and doubt.

But the ambient noise was  silenced

the moment the spaces between my fingers 

Were filled with yours.

And for the first time

Since you left I understood...

As scarred as your hands were,

Their spaces longed to be filled too.

And the nerve endings were revived through our fingertips

enough for our veins to carry love to its chambers,

Where it felt at home.

Our hearts came to an agreement

distance felt cold on our lips

Maybe that's why you kissed me at first embrace.

and why the mix-tape voices stopped.

 in that moment, I realized quiet was the most beautiful sound.

Girls dream of boys giving them mix-tapes.

And yesterday you silenced my fears,

and gave me the playlist titled "stillness."

It's the best gift you have ever given me.

Blind Pilot

We kissed in a crowded room.

After midnight, beneath closed eyes.

The touch of your lips beneath mine

Was vivid.

And it took the oxygen we didn't need.

After all, it was only a dream.

I awoke feeling lightheaded,

my mind spinning in circles.

But from the kiss or the absence of you...

I don't know which.

I wonder if the sand gets tired.

tired of being harshly tossed on the shoreline,

it's fragile pigments scattered in chaos.

I wonder if the waves get tired of crashing

and a life full of constant ups and downs.

Does the sea ever long for stillness?

Darling, you and I are the tide.

Science tried to define us as the rise and fall,

according to the gravitational pull of the moon.

And I admit, scientists are experts on logic.

But they never account for the hearts behind it.

So maybe the gravitational pull is our heartbeats.

Because the waves and sand belong together.

Even in ups and downs.

Even when we wish for stillness.

Our ocean may be made of salty tears we've cried,

and the rubble of sandcastle memories torn down.

But please don't forget my love,

The dance the waves and sand know,

and makes them forget about stillness,

The dance that's beautiful enough to be called art. 

 Because we belong together.

And I'll wait for the gravitation pull of our pulses

to bring you back to me.

The tide can only stay apart for so long.

And I..... will wait for you.

And I'll Write Your Name

I've never wanted to hold words.

To have my veins wrap around letters curves.

I've never wanted phrases sewn on the surface of my heart.

and the cracks in between.

And then I met you, and couldn't just skim your pages. 

I couldn't just read every word either.

For you were a story full of pictures.

And suddenly I was an Art Major.

And fell in love with every shade of red that painted your heart.

Even

            The  

                        Darkest 

                                       Shade.

I've never wanted words to echo on repeat,

Through my headphones and to my nerves.

I've never heard lyrics that made skin dance at it's melody.

Then I told you I loved you.

And the music it made as it echoed in your voice was a concert.

And I became a music major, falling in love with even our silence.

Because even that deserved an Encore.

I became a history major when I fell 

in love with your scars and laugh lines

And how they appeared.

I became a medical major when I fell asleep to your heartbeat.

I listened to it break and wanted to be the remedy,

The one that fixed you when you flat-lined.

 --^--^--^-------------------- 

I never thought I'd love math.

and I didn't until we fought. 

I fell in love with solving our problems

and having someone worth fighting for. 

Now, my declared major is English.

I'm falling in love with blank pages.

pages to be filled with conversations,

between your heart and mine.

pages to have ink splattered on

filled with our artwork.

Pages filled with notes and sheet music

from the concerts we attend

Pages filled with the biography written

starting the day we met.

Filled with medical histories 

of the heartache we cured in each other

even pages of math problems

You and I had to learn to solve.

Because English majors create.

And I can't wait to fill blank pages with you.

Chance of Rain

I wonder if it will rain the day you leave

can the skies be sad in the middle of July?

if it did rain would it be a record downpour?

cause babe, that's 365 days I will miss you.

I wonder how much it rains a year in Kuwait.

enough to wash the dust off your combat boots?

if it did, would you look to the sky and think of me?

would it photograph the drops that fall and ruin ink?

Handwritten letters can be held close in storms.

 I wonder if it will ever rain the same time for you and I.

7,434 miles apart cant possibly share the same shade of sky.

will you wake up to its thunder, while I fall asleep to its white noise?

When it rains, Ill stand in it and thank god that rain has a gypsy soul.

Because maybe the same raindrops will touch your skin, and kiss it's warmth.

love is the element found in rain.

Because that's where I found you.

in my storms. 

To The Innocent

The bottle hadn’t ever even touched my lips

Yet still I lived the effects it cynically brought.

I’ve never tasted a drink stronger than coke

Yet still alcohol made my mind swirl with hurt.

I’ve never used a syringe try to numb my pain.

Yet the needle still stabbed my heart repeatedly

I’ve never flown higher then where kites reach

Yet still have woken up crashed from the flight.

I’ve never watched distorted figures “make love.”

Yet still my soul was blackened like the end credits.

I’d never cheated on someone I said I “loved you” to

Yet I still couldn’t say the words “I love you” back.

I’ve never been locked in a room 6 by 8 feet with bars.

Yet still I felt trapped by lies and lists of crimes I’d heard

I’ve never been handcuffed by the side of the highway

Yet still my skin was rubbed raw with continuing lies that hit.

I’ve never stolen drugs and jewelry from someone I love.

Yet still I’ve cried the tears the loss of trust took with it.

I’ve never sold sin to strangers in shapes of capsules

Yet still I felt the cold emptiness the customers searched for.

I’ve never had an addiction,

One like the people I’m supposed to love seemed to have.

I’ve never felt the guilt they go through routinely each day

Yet still I’ve felt the emptiness they must feel every 24 hours.

I’ve never felt the shame of what they do as I look in the mirror

Yet still I’ve felt a sense of hopelessness and lack of faith they have

Because the truth is, Addiction doesn’t affect just the Victim.

I’ve never watched as Addiction destroys my own soul.

Yet still I’ve watched it destroy yours…fraying my own.

I’ve never watched addiction take over my heart with every beat.

Yet still my heart has beat painfully screaming its name angrily.

Addiction has only left me wondering.

Wondering why addiction takes such satisfaction in lives it takes,

Dragging them through the hall to hell by their bleeding fingernails.

On their way passing framed pictures of failed attempts and lost battles.

The hallway ends in darkness and empty because they lost everything.

And all that’s heard is the echoes of addictions last laugh.

Addiction doesn’t stop there though, with passion in its eyes.

It’s not satisfied with one kill shot, and has his next target ready.

Its next aim is the family of the soul being dragged painfully.

Addiction tries to take the lives of the innocent.

And all that’s left is the graves of the cemetery

The tombstones etched with words “Hopeless” and “Defeat.”

The battle is over and everything is silent

And Addiction smiles from above,

Rubbing his hands and plotting his next victim

I just hope the next one is strong enough to defeat him.

The 3 AM Muse Woke Me Up To Write

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Thing one: You share a part of her

That alone should have been enough.

Enough to want to share a life with her.

To share bedtime stories and heroic tales,

To wish to be the direction tiny hazel eyes 

looked up to as she called you her hero.

But it wasn't enough

Thing one might share a part of her.

It signed the certificate like a casting call

taking the role without an audition, planning for improv.

little did it know it forgot to read it's character description. 

Behind the scenes the Hero's part was played by the villain.

Misread instructions didn't stop Thing one.

starting the role out with lessons and lectures

The original line in the script was well said

" That dress is WAY too short, go change."

It didn't realize the hazel eyes saw right through the cliche line. 

Her eyes knew about it's tragic character flaws.

Thing one watched naked figures destroy love

How dare thing one pull the modesty line on her.

Hazel eyes should never have to wonder the words

"Did thing one ever think of me like the girls in videos?"

Thing one's mistakes couldn't hide behind a curtain forever.

The heroine kicked it off the stage when she found the truth

but thing one didn't leave before running off with the rest of the production money.

Ass.

The new production became a low budget project.

But without thing one, it was still a fairytale anyway.

(after all, the heroine was the real hero in the story)

pigments in her hazel eyes might have been broken

and sometimes the sharp pieces hurt her eyes and brought tears.

But that didn't stop her from wishing for the cliche ending,

To have a fairytale wedding that ended with a Father Daughter dance.

And with that wish upon a star, 

God came down and granted her wish

Thing Two.

Her hazel eyes met thing two with awe and wonder.

He appeared in her life and quickly into her heart

Thing Two's character description was crossed out was highlighted dad.

The story continued for two years as she grew up.

though almost grown, thing two was a great story teller.

He was taller than her and her hazel eyes looked up at him

as he taught her things of unconditional love and heroic deeds.

He fixed the pigments in her eyes and she didn't cry anymore

scenes rushed by at a fast pace in a happy montage...

 She bookmarked her favorite scenes in the script of her memory.

Scene 1

She liked going shopping with him  to the mall.

he was patient as she tried on armfuls of clothes.
He never told her that her outfits revealed too much skin
but she would have listened to him if he did.

Scene 2

he met the first prince she said the words "I Love You" to

He was protective, but his heart was soft and welcoming

He knew the prince was a good fit for his new daughter.

********

The fairytale seemed to come with a happy ending

But little did she know fate likes to twist the final scene

and fog set in with the fights that echoed through the walls.

The final battle was tragic and well fought, 

and ended with stab wounds in the back of each of us

at the realization of lies told by the once known dad. 
 the heroine wished to stop the bleeding with love

but there was too much blood loss to revive broken hearts.

 the glass pigments were broken again in hazel eyes

this time it shattered blue eyes at the same time.

making each pair a darker shade shadowed with mistrust. 

Thing Two continued popping pills to hide the guilt it felt

It's character description came to light with truth with two words

Addict.

Liar.

The scene ended with thing two's packed bags and goodbyes.

but not before it asked for what was left of the production money

A new word was added to it's character description.

Ass.

Thing one and Thing two were tragic characters

potential to be heroes..but failed and became villains

villains over Addiction.

These hazel eyes will be lucky if they trust again

To Thing 3 wherever you are,

each of the remaining characters eyes wont be so naive this time.

Be careful of what you do to our script.

*End Scene*