Brightest Star

You're emotion, you're feeling, you're song, you're day, you're night, you're light and rain. You're golden days and summer nights, you're skin, you're breath, you're fire and ice. You're friday afternoons and saturday mornings, you're a fairytale and you're the princess, the mermaid, the fairy, the fair maiden, the queen, the rose and the thorn. You're the stream of light that peeks through the blinds, you're the morning dew, you're the cloud that shadows the field, you're the rain that freezes my skin. You're the brightest sun, you're the northern lights, you're eclipse, you're comets and meteor showers. You're letters, you're words, you're lyrics and music, ink and paper. You're dreams, futures, plans and visions. You're the space inside me, you're my brightest star. I love you.

Write.

I have a need to write that goes beyond my somewhat rustic writing and literary abilities. I see stories unfolding in front of me, beside me while I sit in a coffee shop, the person next to me in the bus and my classmate looking out the window. These stories speak to the fibers inside my heart, to the paint splatters I call my imagination and make me promise the unfolding of their tales. Characters make appointments with my words in order to make sure their stories do not go untold, because above all else, their existence depends on my ability to find enough time in order for me to bring them into life. A skinny yet courageous librarian lost in the middle of a lost european town, a noble soldier lost in the northern borders of an until now unknown kigndom, a girl with long hair that moves every piece of my heart with her voice and those precious emerald eyes. I have made an oath to them, to myself, to my words, poor as they might be, but overall I am committed to tell of the redemptive tale that overshadows everything else, at the same that it permeates our very existence. His story, his dreams and adventures, his ever present watch over this broken, rebelious creation that He loves above everything else. This is me in a neverending quest to find these people wherever they could be, and follow them through their trials and brokeness. This is an oath taken to show others and introduce them to the many stories that revolve around me and that have honored me with making me their voice, their usher to your life and your imagination, their keeper and treasurer. Their author.

Lost in your heart.

Im lost in her heart, marooned in her rich grounds and colorful landscapes. I ventured once into the unknown that was her affection and found currents so strong that made me lose my way, made me forget my speech, my writting lost and my voice impaired. Her summer scent lured me in, her thick gold hair embraced me and now im here to stay. This is no mere shipwreck or lost expedition, this is shangri-la, this is el dorado and its mine to keep. So, to anyone who finds this, tell my friends and family im here to stay, that im more than fine, more alive than I'll ever be and more and more in love each day. Don't come looking for me, I'm already found.

All I know

Jon Mclaughlin-You're the one I Love

A new language

I can't find the words to make you understand what you're doing to me. I'm speechless, I went blank and I can't seem to remember how to write or speak again. It's as if you're teaching me a knew language one I never new of because only you spoke it and it makes me feel as if I discovered a new way to communicate I don't quite seem to figure out completely. A new language where holding your hand holds more words than Cervantes could ever think of, more images than Monet could ever think of painting, a new language where talking to you makes time stop in order to listen to you speak, where your eyes hold more beauty than all the landscapes a pilot has ever seen, where your hand in mine makes my heart race more than anything I've experienced before, where time is there for us, where the word "Rush" does not exist, a language created around you, for you but for me to figure out. And so I write, or try to, about you, about how You and I when the time was right got so far.

Deaf songs.

I wish I could print all my memories and keep them in a photo album, or better yet a scrapbook. If I could show you how I sometimes see the world and how I used to see it and how my thoughts sometimes write songs I can't sing and lyrics I don't understand, maybe if I could do this if I could show you who I really am and not the handicapped, speech impaired, blind, deaf person I sometimes appear to be. Maybe then you could see why I like you so much, if you could see the memories you create and the songs you make me sing and the poetry my heart sings in deaf, incoherent but oh so colorful words. Maybe then you and I. Maybe you. One day I will, I promise.

Garage Sale

My heart is having a garage sale. Old crushes' pictures, tarnished love letters, teenage poetry going for $10 a piece. Dead ends, what if's and painful memories are 2 for $5. After this,making space for us and our baggage and moving you in. I don't care if it's heavy, come, you can rest in here.

Fitzsimmons

This has been speaking to me for a while, this guy is insane wish someday I could write/sing/play like him. Hope you enjoy:

Grammar rupture and word erupted.

And i'd like you to see the wall we will sit in, and the smell of wet bricks after the afternoon shower. The picture we took in the polaroid I never had and the diary I've never written about you and the song I haven't written about us. The blanket your mom gave us because you were cold in your living room and the movies I promised to watch, and we did. How I've written and written and I just found out it was about you and the way you don't seem to fit any type of person I will ever meet. The way you speak for yourself and others and the warmth I feel when you do. And whatever you went off to study at college and you were incredibly good at, and the way your dad talks about you and the way you're his little girl. Remember when I first met you? you fell asleep in the bus, and you love my music, and yes it is OUR playlist. I hope you understand that each song is for you, they were just kind enough to write it for me. And the way I met all your friends, your real friends, and were you grew up and were you spent your summers, and were we spent ours, and were I moved one day, and were I saw you for the first time, when I saw you for the first time and I really saw you.

I found a key today.

I found it in your room. At first, i thought it was the key to your diary, but I realized that could only bring more mysteries to your already confusing ways. Then, I thought it was a key to your thoughts, but I realized that would only dull our much interesting conversations. Finally, I realized it was a key to and already open house. Beautifully lit, gorgeous arrangements and warm rooms. Amazing pictures hung in the walls, pictures of you, pictures of me, pictures of your family, pictures of a childhood, of a beautiful little girl. Then I found a door, a blank door, yet warm and welcoming. I realized the door spoke to me, your heart spoke to me, a welcoming sound it spoke. I stepped in and marveled in awe at the fullness of your heart, of your words, of your songs. But above all this, i was touched by the space set up for me. I sat down, content in you, in the space you gave me, the space of your heart you decided to give me.

I found a key today
I found your key today.

Or so it goes

Or so it goes
Of trains and crashes
And fires and ashes
Can't seem to find

A you I like
A morning light
That's quite sincere
With were we are

And you and I
And raining blight
And you and your smile
And me and my skies

Yet here we find
A living scene
Of two of a kind
Of two of a kin

And you and I
And raining blight
And you and you're sad
And me and I write

I wrote it out
I wrote you out

Keep trying

Once again. Short lived attempts at something better. Good luck and keep trying.

It makes sense.

So there i said it. It actually surprised me how easy you made it, no drama, no excuses, no last minute plans you forgot to take into consideration. You only said yes. I was nervous to point of stopping one block before i picked you up and saying to myself: "Calm down and breathe in deeply" And then it was as if nothing had happened, we exchanged chit and chats and this and that. And you told me of your brother's hair cut and your sister's dilemma's and you ordered a lettuce and you loved the movie, and you smiled. And it was all worth it right there and then. And I took you home and it was awkward with your parents, and I helped you dad hang a picture, and it was worth it. I'm excited/afraid/anxious/nervous/happy of where this is going. It could be nothing more than laughs and movies and small moments. It could be as big as an age of laughter and movies and big moments and songs and years of looking into each other's eyes. Either way, I'm glad that I said it and you replied. And now spring is here and summer is around the corner and we go on to live what we WANT to live for once. I said it and I'll keep saying it. No more keeping it in, no more mediocre existence, no more what if's, no more waiting for things to happen. Because I'm tired of not saying what im feeling and thinking. Because I was scared of No's. Because ironically, when I decided i wouldn't be scared anymore you said yes. And now it all makes sense, because you said yes and it all made sense. It makes sense.

I always

If

What if's paved
the bittersweetness
of our Polaroids
tucked away for friend reunions
and secret toughts
of other loves
that never
were.

Proper Credits

Oh btw last two pictures are to be credited to http://pretty-as-a-picture.deviantart.com/ who is awesome and inspires most of the time.

Summer again

She jumped off the window, she landed on her mid-summer's dress. She couldn't care less about her soaked threads or her bare footed condition. She ran for hours, years it seemed. The fence of the adjacent state in sight, the little bugs some called butterflies crawled all over her belly, she embraced them as she continued towards the blue house. She woke to the warm smell of coffee as her sleep-numbed toes wiggled out the protection of the bedsheets. But she never left those summer she treasured in boxes, in Polaroids of girls and boys in summer lakes, in hand threaded bracelets of best friends and yesteryears of crushes and summer flings. She knew well enough her life had become a never ending summer of warm feelings, bed sheets, coffee pots, worn out yellowish pictures, and sun. She was running through wet fields and sandy beaches and wooden panels in summer homes. She was her again. She remembered him and smiled. He stumbled into the room, greeting her with a coffee mug, "g'morning" he said. She hid her face in the bedsheets, blushing again, cause she was fifteen again. For her it was summer again.

She had summer written all over her face

She had summer written all over her face. The feeling that you have nothing better to do than to be right here, worry free, letting time pass, that was her. Clear eyed, summer scent and wildly free hair. I was lost in her the minute she noticed me. Im still waiting to see how much this summer can last, it seems that trees hint of yellow leaves but the green is just overwhelming all my senses. And there i was, twelve, jumping over fences and picking up apples from trees and drinking water from cold mountain ponds, and my grandma calling me and my cousin for dinner, and the girls we tought we liked, and the berries we picked in our way up to the house, and then im back to her eyes, to her smile, to her insanely soothing voice and im back to the house with wooden floors and creaking sounds, and the sun setting at nine PM and the picnics we had with distant spanish girls, cause we were twelve, and i'm back to her lips and to her summer scent and to her sight. Oh she had summer, my summer written all over her face

Did I say too much?

You have no idea how i want to hear you sing and hear you laugh and laugh again and laugh at your jokes and laugh at the way you sleep almost everywhere and how you have no idea what big words mean and how i want to be in bonfires by the beach with you and on snowy afternoons and watch you drink hot cocoa and watch you drink coffee and ask you what kind of coffee you like and if you like coffee at all and what movies make you scream and what movies make you cry and who makes you cry and who makes you laugh and who was your first kiss and if you want me to be your last kiss and who you kissed in between and if you like to sing in the shower and if you like orange juice or if you like apple juice or if you like apple pie or cherry pie or pecan pie or if you like pie at all and I wanna spend time with your family and meet your friends and kiss you you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you.

Here we go again.

What is this fascination we humans have for betting on the one thing that is not sure at all? One sided love, destructive relationships, friends trying to become more than just that, that dreadful little word. Just like a child does exactly the opposite of what his mother told him, we follow our heart blindly, not noticing the multiple threats that come buzzing inches from us. We never notice, we never noticed anything else. So what can we really do? Ignore the one thing that screams human on our body? The one thing that makes us more than just a bag of bones and flesh? We tend to lose it anyway, one way or another. I've decided I'd rather lose my head at an incoming projectile of disappointment than to keep it and die without any human in me. I'd rather take my chances once again. We never learn, or maybe we learn to never give up. I'm going against all odds, but it just feels so right, I can feel it in my bones, I can feel it in my heart. Here we go again.

Holding on/back.

I can't hold my breath much longer. The air, my lungs, my truthfullness is about to burst into a colorful picture of my dreams and realizations of you and me, maybe, maybe just me. And i can't help but think that you are not for me, or that I'm not for you. But we don't seem to notice, our talks show none of that, my stupid jokes, your graceful laugh, and oh your hair. If only i could just give myself up, like I said before without holding back for you or me or us or whatever. I hate holding back, I do it because i don't know how to do this anymore, more like i never understood how to. But maybe you could help me, don't hold me back.

Life

There is an ever present conscience in me that thinks time might be catching up to me, that life is not a small creek we can walk through, but rather a broken dam that we must try to reign in. And so i go and i try my best to tame this wild thing we call life. I like to think I can. Life wants me thinking I can. Who am i fooling? It just continues its path and I'm, well... along for the ride.

I'm sold

Dreams came as if like premonitions of a life to come or maybe as a teasing preview of what another life could've been. Either way, I woke to the sound of your face, to the colors of your voice. Morning took me, shook me, woke me. And there it was, your letter, you message for that day, your constant thought over me, or so like to think. Just as the morning stole my dreams, your words woke me up again. How I wish I could see you more like you are in my dreams, 'cause you own them already but i wished i own yours. Maybe I bought them already. I don't know but I'm sold. To you girl I'm sold.