Velvet Serenity

Wrapped up in a velvet serenity
Rays of sunlight tangled in the curtains
You sigh deeply, troubled by a dream
Then your eyes flutter open like newborn butterflies
Enveloped by the silence in your stare
I crave the words that have since disappeared
Three words, eight letters, one million ways
One million days, release me.


Imaginary Music

How often do the sirens blare
When no one’s there to listen?
An empty orchestra of white noise
Conducted by the absence of sound
Playing in front of a missing congregation.
Despite the fact that appreciation lies elsewhere
The symphony of silence dutifully continues
Because the beauty of its imaginary music
Lies not in the minds of the crowd it cannot please
Or in the notes it does not play
But merely in the fact that it is real.


I feel your bare legs carressing mine
as if they were a part of me, completing me
I hear your breathing, softer than daylight
as if it were my own, inflating my lungs
because you are the air I breathe, the steps I take
and you make sleeping in my favourite vice
while I’m ensnared in your delicate grasp
the world disappears, the noises fade
and all that remains is the feeling of you and I –

Royal Blue

These cannons standing at the ready
Greet the masses with sarcastic smiles
Well aware that they are simply relics
Of a time when life was more expensive.
They point off to the royal blue distance
From which we came a long, long way
To find this remarkable, righteous recluse
From our expendable, forgettable lives.
Because we live like addicts, hooked on vanity
Abusing our substance in public, in private
But we escape for two weeks every year
To remind ourselves what real life tastes like.


Oh gentle, sweet serenity
Come find me on this rainy day;
Alleviate my open wounds
And wash away the permanence.
I know that this is temporary,
Caustic like this summer rain,
But I feel stranded, lost inside
This torrid little fog of mine.


I’m casting stones into the sea
In hopes that it might sing for me.
A hopeless task that bears no prize
I’ve stared into the ocean’s eyes
And seen the lack of its regret
For things that I’ve yet to forget.
My dreams are now just driftwood
I would build a life raft if I could
Assemble all the pieces and be
Satisfied with what I see.

mes souvenirs

quelle jolie reprise.

je peux sentir le nouveau printemps
comme de l’eau froide qui coule
entre mes doigts, éclairante.

mes souvenirs, des photographies
avec leurs couleurs tous mêlées
incompréhensibles, mais belles,
comme des fleurs parmis le gazon.

c’est tellement injuste que ces petits moments
sont perdus, malgré mes meilleurs efforts
de les garder, saufs dans mon coeur.


Taylor looked up at me from her cup of coffee, her chestnut brown eyes seemingly reflecting the steaming hot pool of liquid that she held between her hands. She sighed deeply, staring into me in a way I’d never seen. It felt penetrating, like she was exploring the thoughts that were bouncing around inside my head.

We were sitting next to the windows in a small, sunlit café. It was the early afternoon and the only people there were a few old Italian men, the two baristas and us. It may as well have been just her though, because I was starting to feel like she could see right through me.

She was absently circling the rim of the white coffee mug with her pinky finger, her eyes still burning holes in my cheeks. I didn’t know what she had to say, but I was hoping against all odds that it wasn’t anything serious.

“I’m not well,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. She looked out the window to her right as she continued, “the pills aren’t helping anymore and I feel like I’m falling apart.”

All I could do was stare. I felt a lump in my throat, then the tears started to well up. I just barely managed to hold them back, but I still felt them stinging the backs of my eyes.

Taylor was my whole world; she was my best friend, the person with whom I shared every part of myself. I had loved her with every ounce of what I had for so long, and to hear her say that she was sick again made me feel empty. I knew I had to wear a brave face for her, but I also knew that she’d see through the mask. She could always read me, like an open book.

“I’m sorry. Was it me?” I asked, wondering what I could do to help.

“No, of course not. You’ve been so good to me, none of this is your fault. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I could see the mist starting to form along her eyelids and I knew she was going to get upset. She hated crying, especially in public. I took her hand in mine, trying my best to comfort her when I had no idea how to make her feel better.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes and said, “I think you might be better off without me, you know. I’m not okay, and I’ll only make things harder for you.”

It angered me when she said things like this. She always made it sound like she was a burden on me, like I had to put up with her. I didn’t blame her, because I knew she was sick and that it wasn’t her that was saying those things. It just frustrated me to no end to know that she couldn’t see how beautiful and loving she was, how happy she made me. She didn’t realize that I was with her because she filled in the parts of me that were once empty, that she made me feel like a better person.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I affirmed, looking right into her eyes, “I’ve told you this already. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Well you shouldn’t want to be here. I’m a trainwreck, you shouldn’t love me,” she snapped angrily, her emotions overcoming her. She pulled her hand away, her curly brown hair falling in front of her left eye. It was hard not to take it personally when she got like this, but I couldn’t let her think that it was true.

“It’s not about whether I should or should not, Tay. I do, and I always will. There’s no reasoning behind it: I’m here because I love you and I love you because you’re you.”

She looked up at me, pushing her hair away from her face to reveal that a single, solitary tear had started rolling down her cheek. I reached over and wiped it away with my thumb, carressing her cheek with my open palm. The slightest implication of a smile turned one corner of her mouth up, as if her lips were trying to brush away my fingertips.

“I’ll never understand what you see in me,” she said, her glassy eyes almost orange in the sunlight.

I see you, I thought to myself. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…

…and in that moment I realized that I needed to be a mirror, not a window.

The Softest Dawn

The softest dawn to ever shine

Illuminates your careful eyes

Tranquility exemplified

Inside their flickering candlelight.

If I could just believe the lie

And say the dawn might never die

I’d kiss those eyes one hundred times

To keep the fuchsia sky alive.


Azure Blue

When the ocean reflects
The azure blue sky
It’s easy to lose sight
Of the fading horizon.

Swim for the wall
In search of the place
Where water meets sky;
Capsize your doubts.

When the end is a mirage
Bask in the sun’s warmth,
Test the pleasant waters;
Be content to just exist.