I long to paint the sky. For colors to blend and bleed and slip around the sunset. To wash over the warmth of the wind as it weaves in waves of wonder. For what is the color of beauty? What hues do you see when it’s brushed across the horizon? Which tones are muted and hints are highlighted? To each their own beauty.

The Forest and the Trees

Those trees out at the park

You know the ones

They saw the full-faced smiles

Quietly stolen kisses

Bathed in moonlight and darkness

Though we were nothing but luminous

With you I saw the whole woodlands

And we picked out the perfect trunk

Limbs against limbs

Faces finding fingertips

Souls meeting in between

Like deserts finally finding rain

Breathing

Is a battle all in itself

You look around and see the trees

Hear the road noise, feel the breeze

And realize you are living

Sometimes you just have to survive

But in truth, each day is a win

Every breath is a battle

Each time you open your eyes

Fresh from slumber or barely conscious

You’ve decided to continue

Learn to let go of what you can’t control

And just breathe;

Fog

I feel it creeping up, staring at me out of the corner of my eye

I smile but feel the weight of the muscles I pull on in an attempt to push the mist away

It remains

Just yesterday a friend said I was glowing and I wonder: will I still glow in the dark?