aurora borealis

there's a girl that i seek

on the highest, dark peak

her name is aurora

though we never will speak.

her dress is that of shining

rich green, lining

the twilight sky's frayed ends.

her crown is wrought of stars,

cold as hard metal bars

or her wounds that she always tends.

ever-shifting; only the wind understands

a shimmering jade mirage above bleached white lands.

i spin and glide through the snow

my face frostbitten and burned with the glow

of her lunimescent emerald light drenching the dark

the ground below me, cold and stark.

i dance as she does, wild and free

though i'll never be as beautifully dangerous as she.

and yet we move in perfect sync, she and i

my feet in the snow and hers up high

maybe i'll meet her one day if i learn to fly.

her name is aurora

and her misty green flora

bursts through the winter's night sky. 

there are some born with their eyes gazing at the sky.

their stardust-hewn fingers grasp at the hope of touching the void above them

and their galactical minds are filled with small wisdoms, like

how many of the stars they see have died long ago;

and i am mystified by their sorrow at the fact.

because when i look upon the dead stars, i only feel comfort

that such ethereal, hope-bound bodies still glow for us long after they are gone.  

The cold air 

Envelopes me, punctures my skin,

Leaves me thrilled breathless.

I forgot my coat,

But maybe that was on purpose,

I suppose 

I should savor the cold.

Maybe one day it will be no more.

And on the rough tree branch

Blood rushed to my head

Leaves me with a burst of 

Childish happiness,

The kind that makes you want 

To laugh for no reason 

And gallop among the fields

And believe in fairies 

And not worry about forever.

But my hands hurt from the bark and I'm really cold now,

And I can tell

this tree branch won't be here

by the time

I grow up for real.

Maybe I should

Laugh for no reason 

believe in fairies

Gallop through the fields again.

Because maybe one day I will be no more.

Sometimes

I can't even feel sad

When fires blaze through our streets

Sometimes

I can't even cry 

As my world crumbles, screaming beneath me 

Sometimes

The only thing I can do

is watch emptily as

Everything

Becomes nothing--

It is then I question my humanity. 

But I am not the rain

That our streets

so need 

I am not to be the peace

Our world can

On so feed 

Nor am I to be the earth,

For I can't even shelter

A single seed.

So,  what am I really? 

Skipping

Frolicking

Dancing

About in joy

Clueless

Innocent

A child

Caught in deeper ploy

For what

Will happen 

When they discover

This boy?

I'm afraid

It's too late

For now that child's gone

And so is his joy. 

Can you imagine

Murky blue hues-- cold, chilling--

As it permeates your skin?

Can you feel the

purple mist sucking-- tugging and curling

Your warmth away?

Can you hear the 

Echoed void-- full of hollowness--

Puncturing your senses?

Do you taste the

Sharp tang of iron-- creeping over

Scarlet-blotted skin?

Is it over yet?

Perhaps you'll never know...

Is the well next to you dry,

Or with ink does it flow?