Cut My Hand On An Angel’s Halo, He Said He’d Never Seen Anybody Bleed, What Happens When The Blood’s

So much spilt blood on these lands, isn’t it hard to believe such sweet scarlet flowers grown on those same places? Every time you weave those ruby-red flowers into my hair, do those lovers who never got such bliss sigh? Separated by time but brought together again when our hands entwine, do you still believe that everything we have isn’t the exact same shade of scarlet?

but what if i interpret it wrong? you always called me out for being too cynical, so maybe the freckles on your skin spell out my name in braille. maybe the veins and arteries curling in my wrist trace the paths we are destined to walk. we have already happened, are happening, haven't happened yet and will happen, so what's the point in letting a stupid calculation error determine our reactivity? what if the stars whisper not warnings but twinkle in adoration?

How can you call him a monster when he has my heart gently cradled between his cupped palms? So much anguish yet such a gentle hold on me. You hear your thoughts from others, and yet haven't seen the way his fingertips softly trace my neck. Although I suppose, if he had wanted to crush my heart I would have let him. How often do you witness such a sweet creature turn to pure rage from the depths of his soul?

You can't drag me away from cities, no matter the serenity of small towns and farmhouses. Something unspoken about it always attracts me, so many lives, bursting with energy, each fast and bright in its own galaxy, none too similar to the other or to mine, and I, a lone observer, will never get enough of that feeling.

so twirl me in the rain, and we'll ignore the words of warning the splattered raindrops spell out on the pavement, tie my hair with pink apologies and I'll refuse to believe the infinity of falling and distance the bows shape, maybe the roads we walked overtime really trace out a big, white X, drawing closer and closer together until the discoveries tear us apart. Do you think the stars we stare at are just a scene cut in our little cube, or maybe the writer meant to warn us of the internal collapse, the bright nebula before the fade? is the tragedy in knowing you my love, will fall or is it in knowing I allowed you to get too close? how trivial it is to be bound by the distance we cannot see, but maybe it's just as foolish of me to put such faith in these forming irregularities.

you said i spoke like a poet,

and yet when i try to write,

your name is what spills out of my lips.

But minds aren't a cage of thoughts really, they mean to free us from our burdened mortality.

Silvery sands we walked over,

Footprints smitten but never forgotten,

Quite deftly destroying the perfect arches.

And how long shall we climb the ridges for?

When the light warms the time held in our fingers,

Running through steadily, yet fast,

Shuffling of only the crushed thorns,

Our bare feet sink into the

dissolved, ghostly essence of the past,

And we sit with the light, reminiscing the fall.

Do you remember when I almost walked in front of a speeding car and you pulled me back so hard I laughed? later that night you called yourself my guardian angel, which was funny because for you I'd kneel and join my hands to The Something I've never really believed in. But I didn't tell you that, instead I told you about how I never really believed in Santa or prince charming because Santa had my dad's handwriting and my mom taught me that to love is an afterthought, only fulfilled in heaven.

so you don't believe in heaven?

No, but would you come for me when it's 3 in the morning and I'm pouring out all of the ink I have on paper, hoping it covers the blood that runs 'neath? Let me slice my hand on your halo, when I need to feel human again? Would you engulf me in your wings and let me tell you about how sometimes when I cross a road I reach for a hand that isn't there?

I'll find you in heaven just to prove you wrong.

But wouldn't you rather be stretching your arms above to the eternity I can prove, I will prove, for I am twistedly determined to prove you wrong, right next to me?

but how would you know it's me next to you?

I'd know, I'd know you, I'd always know you, your branches would be the one's above mine when the rays get too harsh.

I saw a shooting star back then, and wished on it. I wouldn't tell anyone for then it wouldn't come true.

I saw a shooting star today and wished that in some parallel universe I still wished on stars and didn't tell anyone what I wished for.