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.