Call me Lou Ferrigno
I submerge myself beneath
pages of books and under the water
that seemingly and endlessly fall off
wooden shelves, further eroding ridges of rock
I thought could never be dwindled or defeated
this only buries me deeper in love with you
dust and faded childhood dreams orderly filed
now exist eternally in vibrant color
as I fall in love with you more
morning glory
hidden morning glory
disguised as gasoline
explosions bloom instead
of hand-picked petals
booming inside my heart
love growing like impatient weeds
loose words so enticing
when depth goes unnoticed and
our love is left unremarked upon
then the sum of our uses
equals nothing more
than stained bedsheets
and an old notebook
full of handwritten histories
(Source: lostsplendor)
tumbleweed
Identifying with tumbleweeds
Akin to misinterpreted subtleties
Scorned by aged thorny hands
and the heat of the scorching sun
Rolling on aimlessly at constant crossroads
Its fate already deliberately decided
since the cursed beginning of time
We used to thrive on blank pages and tumble through misspellings and poor grammar. We had ourselves covered in blankets of line breaks feeling at home amongst awkward spaces after run-ons that sweetly continued on in garbled mumbles and cliché phrases. Opportunities were endless and we scribbled nonsense drawings equipped with loving sincerity. We never worried about what would come next because we secretly resided in all the pretty undertones the relationship housed in any punctuation, but now the pencil has broken and erasing is too messy and I’m scared that we’ll never be as beautiful as we could have been without all these limitations. Maybe I’m hoping that this is only one page of a beautiful notebook that we’re bound to and we can just start together on the next page.
