tothefore

Melodies and harmonies    play in your head    faster than you can    write them down. So, when I talk to you, And I'm guessing your astrological sign    (Somewhat unsuccessfully    but you are patient    and curious), You are only half-present    as you try to get it all    out of your head    and into the computer program,    turning 0's and 1's    into a barely up-to-par representation    of the music in your head. I don't know much about you Aside from the fact that you're a Capricorn    who was born two months early    and should therefore be a Pisces. But, I do know    that your smile lights up a room    (when you let i

Take one boy, Brown eyes filled    with the curiosity    and wonder    of one less than    half his age. Tall and slim,    so when her arms    wrap around him    she can almost do so    twice,    with her head resting    comfortably on    his chest. Mind filled    to capacity    with melodies    and philosophies    and facts about    Native American plagues and    extended techniques,    yet longing for    more. Add in a darkness    which lingers over    his heart,    shadowing his thoughts,    his feelings, his actions,    leaving those who care    about him    isolated, helpless,    alone. And, on top of that, Pla

I. My favorite composer is Ravel    but I put One Direction on repeat    when I'm writing a final paper    for my music theory class. Unchecked, my laugh can reach    a frequency    just below that which    only dogs can hear. I can get sidetracked for hours    with my laptop and my    out-of-tune ukulele. If I like a book enough,    and I have the time,    I will finish it in one sitting,      pausing only when physically forced. Try as I might, I usually can't    crack a joke    without laughing at it    before, while, and after    telling it. Alternative music    to me is like    my favorite room    in a beautiful house

Green eyes are nice and all,    but I think blue eyes    look best on me.    (even better than    lackluster grey) Unrequited love was nice and all,      but the hope and promise of    a bright future    feels considerably better    than having my happiness    rely on a variable    which was more than unreliable.    (and the writing is certainly    less cliche without it) (8/10/12)

I. Time waits not for me    - or you    to get coffee    before your night class.    Eventually,    it will no longer be    your obligation. It cares not for your joy or pain    - for your heartache    - or the laughs you share    with wonderful people    you won't see again    in two years' time. It is cold, but not heartless. It observes all happenings,    smiles sympathetically as it passes,    yet politely persists on its journey    (with an admirable sense of duty)    to a classified destination. II. Contrary to popular belief, Time is a non renewable resource, But we never know when        our        supply            

How do leaves regard    the end of autumn? Are they proud to fall,    or do they feel    the fleeting quality of life    as we do? Where does your heart go    when you feel alone? Does it dissolve within the folds    created by sound    interspersed with silence? Do you attempt to give it to    another, so as not    to deal with it    yourself? Or do you place your heart    into a cage, in an    unintentional act of neglect,    permitting it to pace anxiously    behind the bars?  

You are a bottle of fine wine. The ingredients which compose you are an impressive quality. But you have not matured to your full potential You just need time to grow into your destiny But I am a wine connoisseur; you are unique. I crave a taste of who you are. But you are not ready for me to drink you in. And so I'll admire other flavors. But I crave a taste of you. (3/14/13)

My life parallels a leaf's, A leaf from a tree so stubborn    that it still has its leaves in March    as spring is about to begin. The leaf holds on so tight    to its branch, Because it is afraid    of what it doesn't know. "What is life    detached from this tree?" But eventually, The allure of uncertainty Outweighs the fear, And it drops    floating, floating Into the stream of life, Flowing ever onward Toward a yet-to-be perceived destination. The leaf may fight to float, And it may be dragged under    multiple times, But the fight    to stay above water    is better than    whatever is happening    back on the tree.

It's quite difficult    to keep your hair knot-less        when it's so Goddamn long. It's also difficult    to feel the guilt        of wanting life to move forward,            though I know                all too well                    that life moves quickly enough on its own                        without me willing it along. I don't want to be ungrateful,    But I'm scared,        I'm stressed,            I'm uncertain of the future.                I'm so damn talented at feigning indifference                      that I fool even myself most of the time. I just wish    a future me        could come            and giv

 I went outside At midnight In search of a poem, And what I found Were the thinnest    of spider webs Spanned between the crooks    of black, iron bars, Shining in the glow    of a street light. And as I gazed in awe    at the intricacies    of the woven patterns    which only spiders make, I also felt a void. Because like a spider web    at ten past midnight, The beauty within my tangles    is invisible    unless seen through    the proper angle of light. I am slowly accepting That a person Capable of that perception May not exist. (5/29/13)