Thalassophile

I think you’re beautiful
even when the sun isn’t on your side,
and your waves don’t glisten with a hint of sunshine.
I’d revel in the pure color of you,
No matter the sand you carry,
Or the texture of your skin.
You are ultimately water within.
Though the sun comes to see you at dusk
and falls behind you,
taking refuge in the expanse of you,
You still gravitate toward me.
The evening sky may fade to darkness
But you sea, you’re a force to be reckoned with.
and I’m more than willing to get my feet wet.

Imperfect

Maybe true love for me isn’t going to be about romantic dinners and love letters.
Maybe true love for me will be drunken texts and random stories
awkward silences and show-piece gifts
Someone who can’t keep a conversation going
Someone who’s stupid and arrogant
Someone who writes "you’re" for ‘your’
and who pronounces the word ‘opportunity’ in 5 wrong ways.
Maybe I’ll hate to love him.
Maybe he’ll teach me how humans begin to accept all flaws
when they reconnect with someone they’ve known in a past life.
Maybe he'll teach me how there's nothing more perfect than an imperfect love. 

The Nightmare of Us

We were a fairytale doomed with an unhappy ending.
You were prince Harming and I was a queen with no crown.
We were more the enemy than the twosome that lives happily ever after.
We were the fairytale that looked wrong,
But felt right.
The book of us collected dust
for no one would admit
love was no fairytale.
Love looked like rusty, broken crowns,
dusty hearts, more frowns.
A fairytale set in a metropolitan town,
a love that couldn’t look up without falling down.
We were no fairytale indeed.
No fancy ballrooms, no royal steed,
no fairy Godmother to look after our needs.
No. We changed the game.
We showed the world that ‘fairytale’ was just a name.
We created stories of dungeons and dragons,
and princes with no fame.
Now little kids needn’t be fooled into thinking
love’s about waiting for a kiss
or hoping for the perfect man.
Love, now, is imperfect, and difficult
and often a nightmare.
But it does make better stories
than the ones we previously knew.
I hope someday, some little one,
is inspired by the nightmare of me and you. 

Dream maker, heart breaker.

He was white light
with blemishes across his face.
Glowed in the dark sky
but left no trace of himself for the morn.
He was beauty that showed up once every fifteen days
to unsettle me, to teach me that love is giving, love is light.
Love is flawed, but oh so right.
Love is constant but hides.
Love shows up in all different sizes,
phases and levels of glows.
Love always knows. 
Love learns from the light of another
And reflects more shine than ever.
Love has its moments of needing to stay away now and then
And I’ll probably never find out why
But love will always remain
somewhere, thinking of me in a calm night sky.

Love-ish

The moon has her phases.
One night she’s hardly there,
The next she’s more,
And more and more,
until one night she’s everything,
And she’s sharing,
She’s open and expressive,
And loud and unfiltered.
The moon has her phases,
And I can’t help but listen to her silent whisper on some nights,
And her loud moans on others.
And if I have to wait every fortnight
To witness her, new and whole,
Then so be it.
I long for a celestial soul.
And each night as she expands,
Reveals more and more,
I will absorb her light,
Be more a friend than foe.
And even though she orders the tides,
She is weak some days
and some days the strength of the night.
Her uncertainty keeps me on my toes.
Her white light, bringing calm to my woes.
I probably cannot have her, can’t ever make her mine,
So I’ll stand by watching, admiring her rule over the night.
Dear moon, dear love,
Though you're afar, I think I'll be just fine.