Beautiful Day

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Your laugh tickles like a tiger lily’s touch.
Dulcet echoes fall felicitously upon each and every petal
that lands between the halves of your apple heart.
Words dismiss themselves from feathered jay bird welkin azure.

__________________________

Today I turned 19 yrs old!!! 😀

 

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Moon Dancer

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If
you are
a
moon
dancer,

heal these craters
that soften
the slow beating
of my explosive core;
replace them with
sunburned lesions
that burn for light years
on end.

Be my sky, space, and stars,
consuming the lunar revolution
I circulate
every single day
around the rings of ebony pupils
and dark matter destinies.

If
you
say
you’re
truly
a
moon
dancer,

then you should always wear a crescent for a smile,
beam your beauty through ultraviolet horizons
tainted with the solar magic
of celestial nights.

You’ll have to frolic
inside the teardrops
of meteor showers,
never wasting time
glowering over worlds
that hurt you—
dull your inner dream fire.

Moon dancers
don’t ever drift away.
In slumber,
their minds only curl up next to telescopes,
fascinated by the lens of life,
restlessly seeking contact with another ray
as bright as theirs,
that could kick-start
a rocket to the highest asteroid belt—
the perfect place
where I wait for you
to spin
towards
me.

The Getaway Blueprint

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Hummingbirds sting sweet,
biting the last of my breathless words clean.
Clearing through the palm leaves,
I could’ve sworn somebody’s soul was following me
even though this vivacious foliage appears
unperturbed.

Not flinching, not scared,
I move along a broken path
with nothing but tiger striped cracks of illumination
above golden-green
to guide my falsetto heart
roaming free.

Near where
lazy fire meets acid rain
there’s a flare from a distance

a paradise apart from skyscraper rays,

ruthless cynics, and newspaper headline rage.

Your
thoughts of black and white printed pages
must end right here.
they have no choice but to fade,
just like you and I
will have to metamorphosize,
enlighten, and change.

So take my hand,
and let’s get away
this world is ours
for the escape.

We’ve fought enough battles
within our hopeless selves
and we deserve a break

more than a lightning strike
wants to forsake
inclement weather.

Hearing the sacred winds shift,
the birth of a new dawn unsheathes
as we sprint out of the bleak
into a beautiful white breach.

Dahlia Daydreams

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You
once
told me
about a
place
we could
rove

embodied in
leftover dahlias, saccharine dewdrops
tranquilized by
a setting smile.

In
your
fantasies,
I was a
gift of the Promised Land,
the angels
forgot to
kiss away
towards

the summer shine
tickled daydreams, wondrous divine—
that could only be mutilated
from a heavy heart’s
touch.

I
have
yet to
find
such
a sanctuary—
walking out
into
the
country flora gaze.

Muddy blue puddles emulate an everlasting life
but I know my footsteps will trail ahead in time.

The Victor, the Vanquisher

Through ornate halls of half torn damask,
you run from room to room
pursuing a ghost
whose body no longer
fends for your side
of the chessboard.

Her glow
used to bedazzle
the mirrors
and
Baroque chandeliers—
gone grey,
reflecting the
beauty of glass
even in a furnished realm of utter disarray.

When she tried to get closer,
you shoved her away,
then locked her up like a lantern
and let love diminish, yet stain
every carpet your house holds dear
to this very day.

But what you didn’t know
was that her heart
couldn’t be
contained
behind four-sided picture frame jewels
because she was royal soul
—unfazed
by the laws of nature
because
she is the plague—
haunting each movement you make
while your head spins off its axle regardless.

Old desires of hers
that were once cloaked
out of sight,
attempt to flee alive
down the stairs;
past the window pain,
the glorious doors look as if they’re
ready to pry open wide.

Although before she goes,
she’ll knock over knights in shining armor
among checkered squares,
and pulsate towards the throne
since now more than ever
this checkmate will her solidify her victory;
as she changes the future of the game,
standing on her own.