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 Jan 2018 galaxy of myths
ryn
sometimes
my universe
seems to snap
into place

but more often
than not,
it’s in
perfect disarray
I trace your freckles and birthmarks, each forming the constellations that I see shimmering behind my eyelids.

you are a spiritual being, made from the universe.

planet earth rests in your eyes, where the shining water and waves pull me out to sea.
November 11th, 2013.

for the boy with the tidal eyes.
I lose myself in your cosmic current every time.
I love you.
gentle demeanor and caring soul,
you watched me from afar.
you came from a troubled home.
little did you know that I did, too.

misunderstood, my night princess.
you held the keys in your
hands the whole time,
you just never had your timing right.

four garnet pomegranate seeds
you offered me.
believing me to be of
grace and elegance.

I came swiftly.
and though you rule the
grounds of the underworld,
we were the two queens.

I was already broken
by the time you captivated me.

addicted from the start.

I taught you tricks of my own,
and being the princess of darkness,
you already knew them.

but the stories have it wrong.
the history books documented our inevitable arrival incorrectly.

it was not hades that corrupted persephone, but the path of destruction we paved together.
I was always leaning toward
your side from the start.

in love with danger and the promise
that you would never hurt me.

I am your queen, and you are mine.
june 1st, 2014

dedicated to my lady hades.

I loathe my inability to hate you.
I still love you, but I will never be your queen again.

you threw me from the underworld, out of the depths of eternal winter.
I have to remember that life does not work this way. the universe does not play toward my favor.

I have moments where I do not think at all. no information is exchanged, no neurons fire.

yet I find myself in these moods of brief clarity, a strange sort of enlightenment where I seek out my poetic justice.

I acknowledge my prophetic nature. but in the end the words have no meaning, and I am left as empty as before. I lack purpose. drive. skill. knowledge. talent.

I am a lost soul, but I take that as a romantic notion.

there is beauty in my downward spiral, because it is a geometric form, and it has been said that geometry connects man to the cosmos.

if one uses geometry as an means to produce and organize order out of chaos, we can connect to the cosmos and become one with the universe.
April 22nd, 2013

I honestly have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this.

just a brief flash of clarity, before it was lost in the abyss.
my fingertips trace
the outline of your jaw.
they instinctively know
the curvatures of your ears.

my hands have explored
and mapped out
every contour of your
body and heart.

I am the cartographer
of your soul.

I hum sentimental songs
as you sleep,
hoping they enter
your dreams.

that you can feel my presence.

a smile as you part your lips.
a blush when your eyelids
flutter while you dream
(hopefully of me.)

for what seems like the first
time in an eternity of
tempestuous winter;

I feel the unconditional love
and happiness that
accompanies losing
myself in you.

words flow around me as I
search for the correct syntax
to name my desires,
but they remain ineffable.

I want to have your
aura tattooed onto mine,
binding us for life.

we are the red string,
and I am the seamstress.
I tied us together during
my tour of heaven.

the angels gave me
the task of word prophecy
and of sealing our fate.

it was always you.
june 1st, 2014
I am still the cartographer of your soul.
 Jan 2018 galaxy of myths
ryn
he speaks loud but in ink

he thinks quietly in riddles

he writes surely in metaphors

oh how he voices but achieve only babbles
 Jan 2018 galaxy of myths
ryn
if indeed
my heart
knows every
word to
this song

why does
my voice
argue that
it should
never be
sung?
 Jan 2018 galaxy of myths
ryn
I pine for,
Β Β Β Β  crescent moons
Β Β Β Β  and star-peppered skies.


I notice and hear,
Β Β Β Β  swaying silhouettes
Β Β Β Β  and whistling night breezes.


I anticipate,
Β Β Β Β  the expiring hours
Β Β Β Β  and dew-scented earth.


I only exist in,
Β Β Β Β  extended silences
Β Β Β Β  and shattered lenses.


.
My body aches
for the embrace
of a stranger.

My soul yearns
for the affection
of a ghost.
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