Sykonist

When I lift my pen, words freeze like I'm pressing cold steel blades against their throats then chase me with confessions as I'm running away, so they say talking about the weather is too forced and cheap, I beg to differ. Because every time I swear how I can't feel the sun anymore they run for shade, excusing themselves: "So I've heard it's supposed to storm all week." One day my heartbeat will overwhelm the silence eavesdropping when I have the floor how big of a deal small talk is for me, an eyewitness to people turning heads to avoid eye contact when I was trying to tell them how I can't bare to look at myself because: "Can you s

She settles like dust in the valves of my heart sifting sands for the prettiest of seashells her accent of sweet talk, stillborn in brain grooves how she synchronize swims through my troubled mind when gone, seasick, up to my neck in boiling water holding her is nothing short of smooth sailing how she carries me away in gentle bobs how I get lost how the best part is she looks up to my horizons for safe haven, memorable sunsets into moonlit skies, shimmering surface of humble seas we wake for each other into newfound sunrises cuddled in harmonizing smiles her boo boos are my fetal position her potential eyes, my trail less traveled, where I

We both carry this premonition that this will all, eventually, sting like hell Love is blind, he traces my braille with the tips of his fingers According to science, it's because that's where our nerves end but if you ask me there's just not enough chemistry and, well, I'm just smiling crooked in his fear of the unknown If only he felt this way through the rest of his days he just might conquer the world There's even times he lifts me on top of the world like when he tells me goodnight like a broken record of my favorite songs before he finally disappears with the body language of lovers saying their goodbyes at an airport or when he rummage

If love was a choice, perhaps we'd decide not to love our unrequited loves like how we choose not to touch heated stove eyes but precisely brush our hands above the boiling pot of water, careful not to get steam burned I had to learn that I want you your crust your burnt edges your crumbs today loves you even tomorrow wants you have you ever felt like all the poetry in the world has already been written and it follows you like lava in your sweetest dreams? You see, I wonder things like why no one can stare directly at the sun without temporary blindness but we can hold a staring contest with the moon and win

Before you walk out, hear me out-- Girl, there is no doubt you're going long routes; just recollect this future reference: Hold up; hold it down-- Sugar rush in high heels is not the only way out; not what it's all about. Let things run their course-- Walk in other people's shoes; Take a stand, corrected. Now, turn around-- Display every angle of this attire; it suits you rather well. Take a seat for this-- I could break it to you easy, but; bliss is ignorance. & whether life's weather foreshadows a breeze-- you're gonna fall hard, swept off your feet to weak knees. It's not over; it's over & over again. Before you div