The rocks weathered into benches.
wisdom had dripped from the eye contact of the mountain tops for centuries,
now,
my guard was erroded in seconds when you held mine.
maybe I'm exaggerating,
or have a distorted point of view,
but after all I like to pretend I'm a photographer,
stealing seconds of time,
as I learn to live in snapshots
photography literatly means
"light drawing"
you color the breeze with guitar strings
I admire your energy,
it's contagious
like the confidence of the mountains
passion fruit gets so jealous of the light that spills from your eyes
spiratic
like a spritz of citrus juice
I get wrapped up in your love of music,
I'm sorry if I walked in on something intimate
you shed your guard bravely with every song you play
so I draw my attention to the trees
and remind myself we are simply foot notes
in the grand scheme of things
I divert my attention relucktantly
and try to ignore the aura of warmth
that is casually spilling from your soul
the mountains whistper in my ear
it's ok to be alive
chills sprint down my skin
a fuse-
I am fireworks.
dying to be ignited
your eyes struck me like flint-
I'm sorry for being so forward
but I don't believe in mind games
and I'm impulsive anyway
you burned me with your briliance
as I gravitate towards you hopelessly
captivated by the supernova in front of me
I hope you aren't just twisted plastic
lit by artificial ambiance
your smile is beaming
scribbling in the space between us
capture with a slow shutter speed
wide and unapologetic
like the expanse of the moonlight
you're teaching me how to leap into life
love the way adrenaline makes you feel so alive
if you don't do what you love everyday

then you're wasting your time.

My gaze skipped against the creek,
keeping rythem with the stream laughing,
your smile was enticing
and exciting,
like pumpkin spice,
I'm learning that breathing can be different.
I've been clinging to a shell of myself
the freshman one,
eyes electric and niave
like sour blue raspberry,
I've been dying to relive the moment's I felt most alive
I'm eye level with the mountain tops and the gods
we have weekly meetings
they replaced church and are a substitute for poetry open mics
I'm blindly grabbing for some direction
trying to find my footing
on a road paved with jagged glass rocks
and shattered perseptions
I surpassed my peak years ago,
at least that's what I've been reciting for the past 4 years
but admist the mountain mist,
the creek snickered and the trees sighed in relief
as I realized
the earth doesn't stop spinning
I don't stop changing
each breath is different,
terrifying, maybe but I'm all for transformations
I just assumed you have one big one all your life
a big bang, a star being born,
I am constantly erroding
weathered away and withering,
trying to pull myself together
before anyone realizes I'm so broken
maybe I'm just chipping away at my shell
peeling layers of paint away
revealing a sculpture
I'll spend my whole life discovering,
letting go is being alive,
I'm learning how to breathe
let my lungs crack the ribs
that cage me in
I am growing
creating myself
and digging deeper towards my soul
I hope I like I what i find

You approached me cautiously, 

eyes assessing the posibilities before you

like I imagine Michaelangelo

flirted with the sistine chapel,

finding the cracks in the walls I've been building

you see something beautiful under all that concrete

slyly eyeing the paint chips

flaking under layers of my skin

anything can be beautiful if it's embellished 

so I paint over my imperfections with 

optimistic acrylics

I wonder if michaelangelo was scared of heights

suspened 68 feet up towards the ceiling

or did he love the feeling of being closer to god

we were eye level with the mountain tops

staring contest with the gods

3rd story, much more than 68 feet closer to the stratosphere-

maybe we're masochists

but adrenaline can make the fear disappear easily

distracted by the moonlight as it spilled past our shoulder blades

to fill the spaces

between our souls,

we both get wrapped up in the silence

of orion's belt,

it feels too perfect

so I break it up with shattered eye contact and a laugh.

I am stubborn like marble,

have the potential to be beautiful

but too focused on my fractures

to notice the sculpture that is hidden under layers of my skin

your acid rain gaze

has the capacity to eat away at limestone exterior

Michaelangelo must have spoken to god

in the months he spent on his master piece

materialized the touch of divinity he was experiencing

both believing art is the answer

we exchange a silent understanding

space between us blaring

I can hear the world slip whispers into the breeze

autumn air's breath on our necks

chills scale your spine to remind you

you're alive

the 3 feet between us

gets louder and heavy

as if we both know it's a warning

sincerity spills from the cracks between my teeth

when I smile

the burst of star dust and plaster 

make us feel small

makes us feel like we belong

we look up at the sistine chapel in the sky

admiring the fresco expression of the stars

wondering if we have the capacity to create a master piece.