Leaves

Change; the inevitable inconsistency of life.
The air is much cooler on my skin then I remember it ever being.
Leaves chase after me as I try to slow the wind for them.
They wrap around my ankles and hide between my hair.
In search of some sort of solitude, I assume.
The difference between the two of us, is no difference at all.
I too, crunch under pressure, and finding cracks in anything to quietly blend into.
I fall, and sometimes get picked up by what I can only describe as natures specter of ingenuity.
I fall, and sometimes don't get picked up at all.
My colors change too, just like theirs do.
Always being exactly myself, in turn being too many different things.
There is the bright, vivid ones, blurring the lines in your 20/10 eyes from the path that's right before you.
The ones laced with dark, rich colors contrasting between the soft fading of another.
We are all too many different things.
The difference of which, is no difference at all.

Small

I am the smallest of small
And often wonder if I matter at all
With all of the mountains and depth of the sea
I have a hard time coping how little I mean.

But the blossoms and moss tell me to stop
and whisper sweet things
of well known deep thoughts

We are all one-
Now listen, and breathe
Look at the rocks that lay under your feet.
Those rocks makes a difference
to you and to me.


With all of the companies and oil greed feens
Food opposite of it's nurturing deeds
Peoples pill problems sprouting like weeds
I have a hard time coping how little I mean

I am the tiniest thing
Even a king, is the tiniest thing.
With all of his courts and majesty walls
And I often wonder if I matter at all.

Friends

Friends are not the ones who mock at your art
Friends are not the ones that speak with you, only to prove you wrong
Friends are not the ones that speak with you, only to speak of themselves
Friends are not the ones who limit your fun
Friends are not the ones who laugh at what you love
Friends are not the ones who take effort, and give none
Friends are not the ones who place you in categories
Friends are not the ones that forget about friends

7 Days

I keep counting down the days, and the minutes.
But I am honestly still shocked this is happening at all.
I get to become a Gilmore.
These passing months have seemed like a dream, a daze.
A really planned/stressful daze.
And now it's all coming together. I didn't think it would change the way I felt at all.
Because I was going to be with you, regardless if we were married.
If we didn't get married, I still just planned to date you.

But the closer the days get, I can feel it.
It's so strong, but it's quite, soft, constant, and close..
It's hard to put into words because there are so many feelings that don't come with words.
But I guess sometimes, that's what makes it special.
You only understand if you have felt it.
Like motherhood.

I get to create my own little world with you.
I get to experience everything I am going to experience with the very best friend I have.

Which, if you think about it, I have been doing since I met you.
But taking on your last name, makes me realize..
I get to become part of the most amazing family.
(I am not just saying this to get brownie points from family members either.
I would look up to your family regardless of me getting to become a part of it or not. )

Every Gilmore is so strong, and passionate.
Every Gilmore mother and sister is everything I could ever hope to be.
Every Gilmore father and brother is everything I could ever hope to have.
Smart, dedicated, intelligent, accepting, caring, hilarious, and always progressing.

When I think of your family, it's hard for me not to tear up, because maybe, some day, if I become a mother, our kids will have those same traits that I admire so much.
I have become so close with your family.
And that means so much to me.
I feel as if I am marrying into a pool of best friends.
And I want to thank you for giving me that opportunity.

You, my best friend.
It's so amazing to watch you grow and progress.
You have been a million different versions of yourself since we first met, and cannot wait to see everything else you will become.
You challenge me, almost daily, and in so many different ways.
Some, I appreciate, and others, although I don't appreciate them in the moment, they have made me grow into a very, very, very patient person.
You understand me so well, that I wouldn't even need to talk to you, if I didn't enjoy talking to you so much.
I have always felt like words have so much meaning, the only meaning until I met you.
You've taught me all the meanings of silence, and sound.
I can always understand how you feel by what your music sounds like.
It's a direct path to your brain, without the confusing muck of words and definitions.
And it's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.
I find it hard to share you with others sometimes, but I love to see you make an impact on how others perceive the world. And you bring so much laughter, and thoughtful discussion. I love that.
I laugh until I cannot breathe every day I am with you. Every day.
You have opened my mind in so many different ways and I am forever grateful for that.
You have made me a more spiritual, trusting, caring person.
You are always pushing my limits for progression.
You want me to be the best version I can be. And not only do I need that, but I respect that about you.
I cannot wait to see our progression with one another.

So, thank you.
Thank you for everything.

Halls

Halls Perdere was a tall, slender 12 year old boy with curly creme hair.
If you ever saw him, I can guarantee he was wearing his red snap-back hat, he was hardly seen without it.
Halls only inclination towards life was to understand things, so naturally he pulled everything apart.
Pens, computers, clocks, typewriters.
It was a hobby of sorts.
The only problem was, once he figured them out, he became bored and unimpressed.
They worked exactly the way he thought they would, so why would he put a useless, mundane machine back together?

This, as you can imagine became quite the chore for his mother, Kit.
Her hair had wild tendrils of copper, with eyes darker than the dirt path way leading to their front door.
Kit was a professor at the local university, where she taught a course about the human consciousness. If she wasn't in her study going over assignments, she was in the kitchen cooking.
The only problem is, she wasn't much of a chef.
She burnt just about everything, except for Halls favorite snack, toast.
(But only since last May, when Halls took apart the toaster, and his unqualified father tried to put it back together.
It hasn't gotten to maximum heat since.)
And despite everyone grudgingly scrapping of the chard pieces of their meals, they put up with it, because they would rather Kit cook than themselves.

Halls father,was a dark, intimidating man named Lucid. But everyone called him Lu.
His laugh was so loud, that when it happened, you could hear it in almost every room in the house. But in the nice, comforting way.
You never would shut your door because of it.

Lu had a hard time with Halls. Always trying to teach him how to put the random wires and springs back into whatever it was Halls took apart that day, but never fully understanding how to himself, he became to resent the daily ritual.

Halls is the only child in the house, unless you count Radar, the cat.
But if you really knew him, you would know he is much older than he seems.
Radar was once the king of cats, Halls told me. And it would make sense, because although he had all the basic features of a cat, he often outweighed most of the dogs in the neighborhood.
To Halls parents, his size was unexplainable.
But what they don't know, is Radar doesn't mind burnt food.

Wake up

You poets
You hummers
You seekers
You wild time singers
You late night tea drinkers

Wake up
And listen for sound

The sound of the thinkers
The night time bed readers
and cigarettes hitting the ground

Wake up
And feel for the moment

The moments alone
The moments that go
The moments that feel, and may not be real
Where it's easy to just dance instead

Wake up
And search for

The feeling you know, but you can't catch the glow
Of its meaning in your words
The search for the whispers of room corner kissers
The search for the stillness of dawn



Wake up
And progress

Progress from the darkness that knows how to stall us
Progress from the fear that all is unclear
Progress from existence to soul


Wake up
for the others

For the silent mind readers
For the action time seekers
For the ever-clear drinkers

Wake up

New York City