[x]

Keep The Lights OnKeep the lights on-

I don't think I could ever tell you how beautiful you are, so I will just have to show you-
oh please let me show you I want you to feel how beautiful you are I want you to know
I will make you know Feel me and let it all out Sigh for me and kiss me and
fill your eyes up with longing as I pull my head back to look at you before diving
back down to kiss you again I will show you I will show you I will show you

You.
are.
so.
beautiful.

Genuine (In Season)She runs her hand up his thigh,
as a child picks cotton-ball dandelions
from the stone foundation.

Lipstick streaks the soft evening
horizon; a body heat breeze
wears the scent of Chanel #5
against her chest.
Drawing little hearts on her napkin with
glossy eyeliner, she's so genuine that
the clouds blush behind their powder.

She runs her hand up his thigh,
and they both know what it's like
to feel alive.

Camera ShudderSo many
memories
rely on blinking
at the
right
moment.
But your
treacherous
eyelids
want
a life
all their
own;
with
you
locked and
confused
in
the
dark.

In Congress These DaysIn Congress
these days,
they now have to
tie down
the statues so
they won't
try
to escape and
stomp their way
to the ocean.

Inside OutA warm summer
in prison, late morning

orange on gray.
A forest held behind

barbed wire
leans in, ready to hear

the whispers of
guards and their keys.

Smuggled by the wind
is one low whistle,

then another.

Leaving The Trash On The Side Of The RoadOn the days where you can think of nothing
and you doubt that you have any talent,
remember that your audience is
mostly other artists.
Most music is heard by
other musicians,
and this poem will be read
by entirely other writers
and a few fans,
who maybe just want me
to spout off about
sex and death again.
Or, in some of my better work,
condemn another novelty,
but nobody seems to get
the irony.

Drink DeepWe are not yet
dead, but the
scientists and
philosophers would
have you believe
that we are dying.
We have rehearsed
the methods of our
creation.
We make muses
from nature and
from each other.
We assume, like the
canyon's high-water mark,
that the floods
will not come.

Who am I
to say that
this is false,
that we have
little particles
that hold us apart-
(we are ever so slightly
levitating off the ground
and from each other.)

And the streets protest
by rehearsing the methods
of our end.

When our blood
turns to alcohol
and the first thing
they see of us
is the white
of our bones.

Lost In Winter (WIP)Looking for something to do
between birth and the
big surprise.

Could I just stay warm with you?
Said the sun to the
frozen sky.

I won't let you grow cold too.
So they stayed distant:
lightyears wide.

HeldWhen you took me from my petal
and cupped my frailty
between your hands,
it was like my chrysalis was back
and I am changing again.

It was just as warm as I
paintbrushed your palms
with my monarch wings.
You opened up your smallest fingers,
and I saw five hundred facets
of your child's eye.

I saw every angle of your innocence,
I saw the sheen on your corneas
when you flitted those threadbare wings.
I saw the shoebox with corners
like a prism.

And your call was so loud
when you carried me home.
And I witnessed
your five hundred pins,
and five hundred books.

With five hundred fingers you
pinched me out,
and held me to bru

Search PartyMost people say that
I probably won't find
the one. There are
just too many
people, too many
problems.

If you aren't the
one,
that's fine,
I don't blame you.
But please,
just don't be
one of them.

Prismatic"The sky is gray, and so are
the cities and the streets.
These people are gray
as well, and all they see and
all they are is gray, gray, gray."

He muttered this and more to himself
while picking his fingernails,
but I was listening
on the curb with him.
Listening to the tectonic
engine rumbles; and the
heat shimmering off the six-lane road
like melted glass.

He spoke my language but that
didn't make it
any easier to understand.

When I lifted my head from
the sidewalk, there were young couples
painting the town red. There were
vandal artists in rainbow packs
marking in blue and yellow
as an alcoholic throws back her hair

CeruleanEven the waves had been tamed,
and nature lost its classical romance,
when the waters asked permission
to darken and hold the sands.

On TimeThe more you think,
the less you have.

The more you have,
the less you think.

Think
feel
act;
we don't have time for everything.

The BeachThis isn't much,
but whenever someone tells me
to put a shell around my ear,
I hear your breathing
with my head resting
on your warmth.
I know it's just
the blood rushing
around my head.
I know, it's just...
the sun in your hair
and the salt and the sand.

GaspThere was no
life in
danger, but
she pressed her
lips to his

and breathed
into him
all the
same.

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More from *FallingAsleepTonight

BoxcutterWe are
in her hardwood apartment,
that we bought
because of the neighbors
and the windows
that light up
the dust on the floor.

She is kneeling
in front of
cardboard boxes,
sliding the knife
down the sides
with a paper sound.

And I am staring
into the empty rooms.

If she pushed
that boxcutter
into my lungs
the air would rush out
and say:

When you look at me
and bite your lip,
I see brown hair
and darker eyes.

And I would let her too
if it didn't
make such a mess
for the dust
and the neighbors
and the hardwood floor.

SaltwaterTo wake up in a single's bed;
to drink the ocean from a cup.

AgingWhen I walk on the curbs
of downtown, I can turn my head
and see my reflection
in the glass.
In the windows that stand guard
against the smoke
and the rain
and the winds.
I can see myself,
flickering between panes
as I move down the streets.
I can see myself,
wrinkling
wisening
waiting to grow old
and learning how to remember.

(nothing)Sitting on this bus,
I know that I am distinctly
separate.
I am the absence of this bus,
and the other passengers
as well.
There is some sort
of truth to this;
some sort of credence
that I can't
place my hands on.

(I am not the paper, only the folds
made by my fingers.
I am not the blankets,
only the indent left behind.
I am not the rain,
only the dry spots
marking the pavement.)

Even when I'm standing still,
I am not the air.

(I can only hold it in.)

Glossi.

This is a poem
for lip gloss
and the pre-teen
who wears it
and the old woman
who tried.

This is for
sparkle and stick.
For bodies like
candle wax.
For all the boys and girls
who would breath in
those scents
when the wick turned black.

Before their hair
turned grey with ash,
and their eyes fogged over
from the naked heat.

Before young love dies
and is buried in a shoebox,
with a little pile of rocks
to mark where it was.

ii.

This is for
the scared little boy
who spent all his time
sniffing candles.
While pretty girls
lay on autumn hills,
and even the crickets play
in major key.

With their noses
face down in

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Submitted: March 14, 2012
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Shhhh

by *FallingAsleepTonight, Mar 14, 2012, 12:04:22 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

They hold hands
from two
single
beds,
a mile apart.

Isn't this
just a
sad story?

I'm not
so sure
about that.

Shhhhby *FallingAsleepTonight

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2012-2013 *FallingAsleepTonight

Another shortie

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Love

~AmeliadosSantos May 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

it's beautiful. nice work!

Reply

*FallingAsleepTonight Jun 1, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks!

Reply

~AmeliadosSantos Jun 1, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

you're welcome

Reply

!SAMKally Apr 9, 2012 Student Writer

Makes me think of me and my bf....

Reply

~AnarchyWriter Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Sounds like a soldier's relationship

Reply

*FallingAsleepTonight Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I see what you mean

Reply

~AnarchyWriter Mar 15, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Yeah

Reply

Mood: Love

~MelodieRox Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Aww, that's so sweet! I love this. Reminds me of the relationship I'm in now... although it's much more than a mile apart. Still hopeful, though.

Reply

*FallingAsleepTonight Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I hope it works out well

Reply

~MelodieRox Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Thank you.

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