Categories
poetry

You and I

You and I are pieces of glass

Made from colors and sands that surpass

The normal square that a cube usually makes

Because we take on our own, jagged shapes

When I think of us, I think of the ocean

Of dreams and laughter in motion

Of toes in the sand and my head in the clouds

Or of closing curtains and dark denim shrouds

If we were vases, I’d be small and you’d be tall

Stretching shadows far off the wall

Yet never shining that much at all

I’d be blue, and you’d be gold

With some black veins that made you look old

“Antique” is the name given

The name you live in

It’s the tide you sit in

When the ocean’s coming back from its first wave

Your black veins would show a darker inside

How you’re afraid and hide yet try to coincide

With this difficult existent

Please

I’m at your side

Sometimes there’ll be days when you stand

Smile like a jaunty marching band

Playing your song across the sand

Yet refusing to let the heat be fanned

Please

Just take my hand

The world if full of people who cheat and lie

People smiling and simpering with soft sly shines

Slipping through soles of silk

Sipping on sumptuous secrets and snakes

The loft of my shop

However

Is never at stake

So we slide into our comfortable silence

Keep the quiet

Hide inside it

Just you and I

Toes in the sand

No more marching band

But still

Please

Just take my hand

***

There is nothing more frustrating than trying to help someone who refuses to believe they can be fixed. People build connections and bonds over shared memories and secrets, from actions we both remember and don’t. Every relationship comes with tears, laughter, and love. A friend of mine inspired this poem, and he’s been a constant muse for a while. Some of the greatest inspiration comes out of relationships, whether we write in sadness or joy.

Categories
poetry

A Romantic’s Apology and Introduction

I’m sorry if I romanticize you

If your skin is made of paper and words

If your eyes are gold and you talk to birds

My glasses frame my face in a rose-colored hue

I’m sorry that you can’t see my view

My world is made up of magic

It’s a tactic to distract from the fact it

Isn’t made up of flowers

How many countless hours have I spent wondering why not

How many days I’ve shed tears over my rotten luck

That my skin wasn’t made of paper too

But the glasses are held onto my face by faith and glue

That you are just like me

Because you

Aren’t made of paper too

As my expectations fly and disaster begins to rise

I romanticize the scenario to the point where I criticize

Everything that doesn’t fit in my eyes

I start to swim in eternal lies

Look in mirrors that distort my true size

For what is smaller than a mouse yet larger than a giant?

Riddles and riddles that make me less compliant

I’ll try and stay silent

Not bother you with my defiant view of reality

Because I think we were all meant to be

More than what we see

Or how we feel

So I’m sorry if I romanticize you

My standards grow tall

My world turns small

But I still think it’s a wonderful view

***

People use different creative outlets to express themselves and their talents. One of the first things my readers should know about me is that I use poetry to express my emotions. And before that, I am extremely emotional. Romanticism has been around for centuries, and it’s an idea we each carry with a different perspective. I have always found myself to be a romantic person, yet my rose-colored glasses have often led me to create false visions and high expectations. While romanticism seems fantastical and wondrous next to the cold, calculated conformity of society, there is an immaturity and hubris that comes with it. Learn to apologize for pain you bring, but never doubt how you see the world.