Coming of age

In a mere instant the world I knew was an inverse.
What I perceived as a prison quickly lost the bars and chains holding me to it
All the physicalities disappeared into the thin air
And everything once known slipped through the cracks of my crippled grasp
Is this freedom? Is this a trick?
Despite the illusions of an unleashed neck,
Burden buries deeper than ever known before

Somber September afternoon

One year ago, I hardly knew of you

Some nights when I have trouble sleeping
I think about you
And wonder if you think about me too
And just the warmth from that makes me so drowsy

Tighten Up

Tighten up and set yourself straight
The future is clear and shows you promise
But not without what's true right in front of you
Let the warmth guide, you've lived with nothing but laid out reasoning
Pull yourself up with the grasp of what feels good
Screw logic, where has it gotten you?
Rid yourself of bitter, cleanse yourself of envy
Learn to live, learn to take in the glow of simplicity
There is no need to feel empty anymore
Take control and flourish

Oh

I feel as if I would have spat at you if given the chance
But we both can attest that's further than any truth I know
Oh but the satisfaction that engulfs me when I dream of it

Instead I stayed tight lip, shifted eyes wide
Desire to melt at your toes
Yet burn holes with my gaze
No difference would have been made

You were the same, exactly what I knew
Though this time around was stone cold
We danced with parallel backs, ensuring we see not of one another
Shooing away all sense of civility, and parting promises
But who ever said I was a lady of my word
You certainly were never the gentleman you once seemed

It was a good meeting, and I hope it's the last
There's no more room for fondness

God bless a summer sky

Here would be where infinity fits in.

Under a blanket of glitter and a sea of cyan

A time not quite effable, but justly portrayed in a singsong manner

Composed of lost hours and body heat

And blessed with consciousness 

Unwrapped

Sometimes I believe one's "gift" is too exaggerated
What's said to be a precious gem
Seems really just the gold of fool's in disguise
Undermining it, is not the goal
For in reality, it's lovely all the same
And cherished just as much as a once believed gem
But to put something so simple on a pedestal so high
Is only to lessen it's value in goodness