Sent to you as love sonnets from afar,
Lyricisms transcend despair. No dread.
So many memories flowing—all supreme.
I am experiencing brighter colors.
I feel nothing but dreams and improvement.
Red-purple, blue-green, and black-white-yellow,
I finally feel the right amount of mellow.
Despite desperate efforts for acceptance,
Few grow to know the doubt of happenstance.
There has to be something more to life.
Apocryphal hate-feels in the tirades.
I became so sad I could not even sing.
Life’s tough at twenty-three and no ring.
Bliss holds no prisoners, nor does it fade.
I love myself for all that I’ve ever been.
I feel right with myself and mental health.
We all ascend our own mountain.
When I think of how I miss all of you…
All I want lately is you to come around
To lay under the hellfire heavens of greying skies
Of the highs that waltz into our everyday.
While we burn bright-hot, let’s melt
Every one’s icy misgivings until the mountains
Are submerged, the fires extinguished,
Surely, all that will be left is one enormous
sea of love.
Let’s build bridges over teary-valleys.
To reckon a supreme state of Love…
To forget the sun and die by the moon….
The insides of my soul no longer bruised.
Freezing, wintry December evenings…
Cliche Oversoul dissolution.
Comfort the Goddesses and hug frowners.
Blithe spirits venture into the cold.
A chilling, breeze whispering Fuchsia!
Intrepid explorers exist perfectly
Kissing faces with a sweet, splendid smile.
Rise from infinities and dank skies…
Speak of tales so wondrous the coups just coo.
Oh, how they turn to dust in our hands
Like a sun from the heart of a wild lioness.
Remembering that not everything’s your fault.
Violet and blue, Green and you
Rivulets in the ocean of love
Flowing from the eyes of a beautiful
Woman on a winter’s day…
A warm body with cold hands
Big coats and tight pants
Ra’s smile overhead is so gargantuan
That I can’t bear to look at it directly.
But I see its finite grandeur
Reflected off a crescent moon
In the still black and purple sky,
While the lonely individuals are howling
Mad disrupting the tranquil night.
I learn I’m not a flower chasing light.
To live by the sun and die by the moon…
Pontificate endlessly about love.
For absolute beauty glistens in our cries.
Grace is to be received from up above.
Opiate thrills never beat out trills and glee.
Everyone knows of the trap of the billow.
Free your love by the variegated willow.
Hearts hanker for mistake. Wishes are free.
Husbands entombed in a graveyard unjust.
In Culture We Trust? Romance is just lust.
More breezy than wind’s kisses of rhyme,
Cosmic paintings line the fabric of time.
We poured our hearts out in suburban streets.
Our fits and tantrums: sound, soft, and eclectic.
We are the smiling faces they adore
Oh America, stars, stripes, and laud
We are the place the world loves and applauds.
Show your heart as it is. Be steady and sure.
Whole nations pay to be one of us.
So let us pave the way most euphonious,
Stave off the pain of untimely death most harmoniously,
And remain the culture in which they trust.
Breathe the wind. Reasons come in cute, sweet rhyming!
There’s time to be evil when we are dead.
Head north and chart hearts not yet known.
Find the waves of enlightenment while sailing.
Be the articulate sound waves–tranquildddddd.
For this laud, always be thankful.
Finding faith in the strangest of places,
Everlasting freedom coursing through my veins,
It seems like the saddest thoughts keep me sane.
Truth is, I’m puzzled by frowning faces.
Sure, I still worry. But I am not dead.
Life is ours to make of it what we must.
Love is ours to share with those whom we trust.
Let lovers speak of the arts in their head.
Here’s to the Eastern winds on wintry nights.
She is the flower I’m always missing.
She makes skies twinkle and hearts believing.
She the season that inspires delight.
Break free. Run wild. Always smile. And stay sweet.
Still Love resides in all the hearts I meet.