Matchmaker Remember that time when we were kids And we used to dream of that perfect person When soul mates were idealistic things Instead of real people with real feelings Terrified to be left on their own. Because sometimes loneliness is too heavy a burden to carry--alone But you never could understand That the fusion of hearts cannot be sewn together by a surgeon's needle The same way a person can't make another fall in love with them But rather push them tumbling headlong into the void Crashing into heartaches and heartbreaks After moments so perfect the earth has to tear its gaze away from the sun to stare Time frozen between the spinning and the watching And when the falling is over You're left with nothing but a pocketful of tears And eyes like river stones, wet and worn by the painful rubbing of loss But when those tears overflow to form oceans You are the person Who builds the bridges To cross them A first-hand mechanic, pulling on the ropes of that hot air balloon called #life As you rise up above them Leaving the pains and aches behind For the people of the past Who will be forever framed in the gaps between the stars Shadowed in the light of another's success Until they learn what you have: That the only thing standing in the way of their happiness Is the realization that love does not only come from within the match But comes from matching their needs Before your own.

Briar Rose A hundred years laid down to sleep The eyes of dawn shut tight 'Neath stars of old that whispered "mine," the rose knew not to fight They tore her skin, they cut her Blood red as chalice wine It matched the lips upon her Stained crimson for her time A hundred years she slumbered Through half-lidded sleepy eyes And in her daze they sought her Greed pining for the prize Hair spun like gold-- now shorn Jewels glistening at her skin-- now gone Heart pure and sworn-- now old Voice like a song-- now dim They stole her from the world They took key and locked her in A hundred years now gone to waste A hundred years now passed A hundred years of fitful dreams A hundred years at last A hundred years to say goodbye But she did not have the chance He woke her and he took her There was no looking back A hundred years of pain and bliss A hundred years of this! A hundred years to change my name My fate sealed with a kiss.

Parisian Angel He watched the people from his perch, Columns reaching high, Beside him wyvern angst will sleep, The keepers of the sky. Yet strange and silent does he keep, This man who hides in bows, He paints the panes of justice, And deals the verdict's vow. Guardian of his city, And collector of his kind, What a strange and moral compass, To decieve yet save their lives. Conniver of the gypsies, Master of the djinn, He must always be untethered, He could not survive within. "Angel of Paris come lend us wings!" The desparate people cry, "Save us from the fires!" And from his perch he flies.

Conscientiam Come away, away with me, Lose your troubles by the sea, Where free and somber does she wake, Eager in the storm's embrace, Tell me why the Ocean weeps, Her salt the tears, Of human greed.

Teaching Blind he told us we were wrong he told us that poetry Was not a freeing thing But a list of patterns Of rules Of restricted feelings Written down and shortened Made to be interpreted in one single way And so I asked him, "How can this be?" Poetry has always been a tangible thing It's a living, breathing, writhing beast It has no limits And it cannot be breached I told him it did not matter how we read it The words will all have different Meaning Do not categorize Or shoot them down Because there is nothing wrong here But you not seeing.