Sydney

When my problems feel like oceans

The lake makes me feel small

And her melodic serenades 

Send chills throughout the fall.

She kisses the shoreline 

And dances in wind's waves. 

Her howling echoes 

Say it's cooler by the lake. 

Despite her many warnings 

Of lungs filled to their brim,

We choose to dance within her;

We choose to sink or swim. 

Though I have not once 

Been ripped from beside her shore,

I wonder if her horizon

Holds secrets of much more. 

Safely perched upon the windowsill

Her songs perturb my sleep. 

I wonder if her gentle waves 

Will, through my window, creep. 

For her to wake me in the night

From another's dream,

Would be the best and worst of times

For her love awakens me. 

Frankly,

I've been the number one

I've been the only one

I've been the last one

I've been the extenuating circumstance

I've been dead to you

I've been gullible 

But I won't be the "other one."

She's been the other one, 

The number one,

The one you claim was "useful."

She's been walking with a blanket

Placed carefully over her eyes. 

A blue blanket

That called her "butterfly."

She's been to the same places

And seen the same sights.

She spent months in your bedroom

Fighting cold Chicago nights. 

She's been the dozen roses

That you carried by your side;

Does she know about the four dozen

That you chose to hide?

Darling, please know, 

That I still think of you

But being the other girl

Is something I can't do. 

Virgo

Snakes crept through red rivers 

Entered through the bluest eyes

And swam forever downward 

To meet between her thighs.

Now rivers stop their flowing

And rivers start to dry. 

Now snakes keep creeping through her

Without a chance to fight. 

And so the losing battle

Can never truly ignite;

And the rivers running through her 

Ceased at the snake's first bite. 

She smiled with vacant eyes

And swore she was alright. 

Perfect Mistakes

I'd rather decipher your passion

Than read your perfection.

I want to experience your raw, 

Deep emotion. 

I want to feel what you feel, 

And see your pen scribble out the

Words that didn't quite fit right. 

I want the first draft; 

The one with the stains

And the smudges

And the misspellings. 

I want to hear the words as they're said;

To read the lines that you've bled,

To see the mistakes before they're marked in red. 

So lend me your honest eye, 

And rid yourself of erasers. 

Your first copy contains no lie, 

But perfection holds hidden dangers.