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 Dec 2012 Coral Estelle
Mia
I thought it would pass
This enchantment am under.
longing for you everyday
Yearning for something out of my reach.

I drowned it out with music
loud brash beats
Somehow became a melody
slow haunting and nostalgic.
I cried myself to sleep.

How do you live alone
Knowing you can't have love
Cause it's a shameless flirt
Dancing out of arm's reach
Wearing a coy hard to get smile.

I am besieged
by the pain of emptiness
Troubled by the despair of loneliness
for it's you I want
and yet you only appear in dreams
making me wake in a hollow symphony
More alone with the knowledge
Of you're surreal parting.
 Dec 2012 Coral Estelle
Night Owl
Her
Upon her back, a smooth mossy boulder rests
An old turtle shell that has not yet lost its aqua blue hue
or the blooming flowers between its cracks

The skin on her slim legs are the color of jean
her feet are soft and padded, much thicker than could be called delicate
they are like puppies feet
the other girl's feet tumble and toddle over one another
clumsy
but she has mastered their bigness

Around her ankles is a woolen strip
creamy white and fluffy
fair and curly like a spaniel's chest
soft as a cloud's skin

her hair is a lion's mane
I have seen it whip and sting when she is angry
but now its floating round her head
in a golden halo
like sun burned wheat
it curves, dips and dives
rippling down her back
blazing

The best part of her
as she turns her head, I catch a glimpse
her eyes
sad, dark moons
fanned with lashes, curling upwards, brushing the lids
they glitter as she moves

If I were to dive into a bottomless pool of chocolate
that still would not be deep enough
If I slid into a smooth black lake rimmed with obsidian stone
that still would not be liquid enough
If I leapt into a ebony panther's fur
that still would not be dark enough
to match those eyes that melt
and freeze
in turn

If there was a golden goose who laid a golden egg
and if a spider delicate as lace spun around it a thin moon dust thread
then placed it inside the black heart of the cruelest duke of old
and took it out after three hundred years
then that might resemble the two scorching molten drops
that were my lovers eyes

--Lily
I’m not good at being forward
I have this habit of becoming disordered
I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve
In my aspirations I hope to find belief
I walk through jungles and rainforests
Once in a while I see through the canopy
Into the skies of my memories
And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us
I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust
My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes
Have ignored all the times I told myself lies
I may not be your ideal Superman
But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland
I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl
Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl
And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start
Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect
Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen
But I choose you! To fill my canteen
You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me
I was not made to walk in a desert
My heart is an amphibian
Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg
You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows
I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night
I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right
Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider
Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan
They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league
As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you
To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying
“You’re a real kind of gorgeous”
In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats
I found my way out of the back streets
From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear
A jungle that disappears when your presence is near
Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking
I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular
Anything normal might ruin that
Leaves are a little bit like girls
When I see a really crunchy looking leaf
I want to march up to it and step on it
Hear that sweet sound of spring’s death
Bringing way to autumn's beauty
With all her vivid colors
The changing trees swaying
In the chilling breeze

Leaves are a little bit like girls
When I see a really pretty girl
I want to march up to her and say something catchy
Something smooth
Something groovy, like,
“Hey darling.”
“Congratulations on your face. It’s beautiful.”
Caught off guard by such forward bravery
She’d be taken aback by my chivalry
Opening the door to opportunity

Although leaves are a little bit like girls
There are distinct differences
And I know you can all be my witnesses
A leaf is waiting to be crushed
Like a back waiting to be popped into place
Girls aren’t so fond of ginger boys
Or even ginger men
To come straight up and lift them on the pedestal of admiration
Girls are shy too; it's not just me
I simply want to say
Something to make her smile
Like, “I want to talk with you a while”

Leaves are a little bit like girls
No matter how hard you try to rake them in
They blow away in something
As light as the wind
I never understood “made in God’s image” until I saw her.
Anyone who’s seen her has higher expectations for what heaven looks like.

We’re both sensitive enough to know what love feels like,
and reasonable enough to know that it can be broken.

The first time you use a new toothbrush is nothing like the first time you kiss a girl,
But I still love them both.

Her laugh is a paradox; an outsider would think she either just said the cleverest thing ever or she wishes she could retract it faster than it was said.
Only I know it’s simply because it’s beautiful. It’s easily my favorite language.

I have considered wearing a wiretap so I could go back and listen to all of our conversations again. And I hope that it picked up her heartbeat. She told me, it’s beating exactly like life should sound like.

She offers to iron any wrinkled clothes. I don’t have any. But I have a wrinkled heart.
I thought it was made into origami but it’s just a wadded ball that missed the wastebasket.

The way she dances to hip-hop shows her versatility,
yet you can tell she doesn’t do this every day; but she still dances.

I’m almost too nervous to hug her - knowing it will have to end.
Whenever I let go, I feel like I made a mistake.

Her voice trails off into silence,
like an hourglass that’s trying to hold itself together.

I like that “click-clack” of her boots.
It lets me know I’m next to someone really going places.

She goes to the mini mart with me even when she doesn't want to get anything,
besides more time together.
This has always been about her.
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