The snow is pale,
Crystalline and lovely.
I did not know until now
How much I longed to see
The wind carrying a stream of flakes
Over the frozen dunes it carved in previous passes.

A Metal Most Rare

I'll go over the edge because you asked me to.
I'll show you all the pain,
Misery I have stored inside
And the emotions I've deemed weakness.
You can see all this because you care.
You have not just told this to me.
You have shown me,
In what you do.
The way you enjoy my company,
Seek it out,
And share with me your own pains,
How you do not let me believe
That time you spend on me is wasted,
All this
Earns you my trust,
My love,
And poem after poem
As you show me God's love.
So I thank you.
You are a metal
Most rare and precious,
That I would not exchange
For all the world.

Halfway Down

Sometimes you run head first into destruction-
        no warning
        no time to catch your breath
        no time to apologize
        to those that will inevitably have to catch you-
And off the building you fly
With the wind rushing past
And sounds of disappointment in your ears.

Other time you slowly slide into the ruin-
        a breath here,
        a sigh there,
        little loosenings of the ties that
        once were enough to hold you up-
And you're lost to tears and pain
Before you can call for help,
Drowning in the suddenly overwhelming loss.

Here am I,
Buried in what only now suffocates.
How did I get here?
I cannot remember if I let go all at once,
Or if time leeched at my strength.
Perhaps I should have woken
Halfway down...

It's a curse to remember when others forget,
To gather up things that become just regret.
And I know he cares; he just can't see
What remembrance, what thought, what time means to me.

Asymmetric Grave

Cut me into little pieces, and make me feel each slice.
Tear up my body
But I'm not even here.
Not real enough to feel the pain of soul
I became immune
To all that you fear.
Break me, remake me, notice that I don't care.
For everything you've done
I've already cried.
And when you're alone with the shards of me
You'll know when you'd started
I'd already died.

It's 2 am
And I am drunk
On dance, tea,
And good company.
(Perhaps also on snow)
I titter about my room,
Still in the dress
A bit too nice
For who I think I am,
Organizing my things,
Moving my self around
That it might look nice.
I'm about to give up,
Because the joyous memories
Of finally having a callback,
Of being told that I
Am a wonder to watch,
Are too much
And the joy pulls me to sleep.

Snow is my favorite thing.
I don't know for sure why.
But I can walk so slowly
And not have a care
For the cold tickling my ears
Or the wet feeling leaking
Into my shoes.
Perhaps,
As my friend says,
I am running from something
Or someone,
Hence the desire for weather
That is rather lonely.

Yet,
I prefer to think
On the sparkling stillness
That blankets the earth.
It's silence is found
Even in the breaking of it.
How it burns
As it cools.