may we have some nicer weather please?
At least some sunnier days than these!
It's been so cold and unbelievably wet,
it's horrid enough to get upset.
It's a bit like April but in reverse,
instead of better it's getting worse.
Can't make any plans to go outside
for a short walk or bicycle ride.
Whenever I get ready to leave the house,
heaven looks like I'm in for a douse.
Sometimes I go out in spite
and realize I'm not watertight.
Then I get drenched to the bone,
it even destroys my mobile phone.
Worse yet after it's been warm,
the sky rips open a nasty thunderstorm.
That's the part when danger lurks
with thunder lightning and the works.
Because holding up an umbrella
can sometimes torch a poor fella.
But wait, before I get into hail,
earthly tempests like heavy gale,
tornados, hurricanes and the likes.
It's definitely not worth it, yikes!
Instead of giving myself a permanent frown,
I put the kettle on and try piping down.

He was a hurricane.
When we met, I dismissed the rain
as a pleasant spring shower.
Everyone saw the dark clouds,
but his eyes were so bright
I thought they were the sun

After we spoke I fell harder.
The wind was pulling me in
He was amazing.
I thought I was in love.
I was a fool to think I could fall
for something so destructive.
But I guess, at the time,
I just thought he was
helping the flowers grow
instead of ripping them up
by their roots.

I said yes when I entered
the eye of the storm.
Everything was so perfect.
he was everything I wanted:
kind, compassionate,
he said I was beautiful.
But beauty doesn’t last,
everything perfect gets a scratch,
and the sun went away
as the storm raged on.

He was a hurricane.
He said he would **** himself
when I needed to leave
so my anxiety would go back to normal.
I never liked the sound of thunder
and his voice boomed with every word.
he came to school with
bandages on his arms
and blamed it on me
because I had fallen asleep
and forgot my phone was on silent.

He was a hurricane.
I fought for my life
and he won.
When I got to heaven,
she was there.



She is heaven.
Her eyes hold the secrets of the universe.
Her hands fit perfectly in mine
and she lead me away from the storm.
She says she has been trying
since the beginning,
but he was like a car crash.
I couldn’t stop staring.

She is heaven.
Her laugh is filled with butterflies
and her smile is brighter than any star.
She says my name and I melt.
I have wanted to see heaven for so long,
but I couldn’t begin to fathom the beauty
I would see in front of me.

I knew about heaven.
I knew her energy couldn’t be matched.
I knew her happiness was short-lived,
when everyone wanted it to be forever.
I knew heaven was someone else’s hell.
I knew my heaven had been hurt.
I knew she had been through hurricanes.
But there is so much about heaven I never knew

I did not know how blissfully ignorant
my wonderful heaven could be.
Heaven has a short temper.
She’s sassy and sarcastic in the best way.
She can hold her own, but sometimes
she wants you to hold her
because being someone’s heaven is hard.
She told me I was her heaven.

I was her heaven after so many hurricanes

When he finally killed my spirits,
she brought them back.
He was a hurricane
that brought me straight to heaven,
and I couldn’t be happier.

not sure if you quite know
how much you mean to me

maybe you don't
and you're oblivious to
the hurricane you cause
in my brain
is that why we are
so far apart?

or maybe you do
perhaps you've seen
this hurricane
the strange brew of emotions
that only appear for you
and it scared you away

no matter the requital
(or lack thereof)
you're still the water
that fuels my wind

my love for you is this hurricane
and i've always loved the thrill

i swear
because of the logo
on my watery blue jeans
a hurricane in scala ridotta
used the fabrics in a way
inspired by
irma
katrine
or maybe florence

your mouth creates hurricanes
when all that fiery anger erupts
straight upwards through  
the icy oceans
within your stomach
filled from mental tears
upwards off your lips
those destructive hurricanes
are not supposed to make
landfall
on this body.

why hurricanes are named
after people, not things.

- v.m

I lay here watching
Which layers are spinning...
And what direction?
My mind dissects the clouds
Like a fog being burned by sunlight...
During the late morning.

This pattern above me
Rather pleasing... yet confusing...
I'm on the right,
I find it yielding left...

There's designs I can't name
Animals I can make...
Yet they all run away as I move
And the clouds spin trails...
Watching them evolve
Like a lifelong time lapse.

The drawn up moisture....
The streams of steam condensed...
Swirled and forged into cotton-like pillows of uncertainty.
The colors are the Indicators of moods
The light and mysterious
White and normal
Green and envious of the oncoming destruction
Black and gray depicting ends of sunshine filled days...

The life underneath grows, quivers, and in series of decays...
Some offer condensed clouds as flavored swirls in mugs...
But I rather watch the ones that love
Carrying wind and rain...
Have swirls of their own and a Name.

Though subject of objections
The will of nature has a forge...
To churn this stream of water around
Like spun sugars of cotton candy.
Much like a carnival, life is a surprise
An unyielding wild ride.

Directions are unclear
If i will be here
I have watched the life of
The swirl in this giant mug
Smack the coastlines with giant hugs...
Some rough love...

Though oddity
Have you seen what clouds can do
When spun around oak trees?