Catherine

The world is just a collection of moving parts,

But when it turns dark, these parts begin to stop,

We sit under the full-moon, find our name and story in the stars,

Make love under the moonlight,

Our stories don’t matter anymore,

And you say:

“Sometimes the only way for our past to not matter anymore,

Is for our present to stop”.

 

The world is just one big idea that spreads,

Markets, people, even your own heartbeat,

Is just something that is designed for someone else’s profit,

A collection of bullet points putting bullets in your head,

Stocks that treat us like livestock,

But when you’re with the one you love,

The world begins to stop,

And the one idea you have inside,

Is not something that can be monetized,

It is the feeling that even in this collection of commodities,

Of wars and genocides,

That you can actually be yourself,

That you can actually be alive.

 

When I see you,

Everything stops,

My story,

My past,

And even my heart,

And all that exists… is me and you,

A collection of stars without stories,

A vacant yet full moon.

 

The world is a tree with branch after branch,

Extending so far,

It reaches in our past,

Scrapes us and gives us our scars,

Provides a path for our future,

One that we choose to follow or dismiss,

Contains all of our stories,

All of our bliss,

But when I see you,

Your eyes so beautiful and green,

As green as the trees that used to define me,

You are my new branches,

You hold me up and redefine gravity,

And every night I am given a new life,

Something new,

The world is redefined when I’m with you.

 

The world is just a collection of stories,

Fiction and non-fiction;

The wind knows no genre,

It just blows your fortune or blows you pain,

It blows you happiness or a sad refrain,

And it is mostly out of your control,

Left up to the one who control the wind,

Left up to the ones who define the earliest thoughts in your sub-conscience,

A trail of tears or a path to redemption,

You make your own life,

Or you wish that your life was fiction,

But when I caress; my hands on your breast,

My mouth leaves a mark across your chest,

And it looks like a symbol or a code; one we have yet to define,

And as I crawl inside of you,

I realize my fate isn’t up to the winds of fortune,

Because you give me the good fortune of a new life.

 

The world is a collection of beaten paths,

They can either beat you in submission,

Or you can fight back,

They can either provide you a burying ground,

Or provide you a new path,

But when my arms reach around you,

The path becomes vacant yet filled with your truth,

I watch the stars bend to me,

I can control the direction of the wind,

With you I create my own world,

Filled with our love and bliss.

 

Catherine,

I will always love you,

You are the sun in our world that has,

Been in our path forever,

But is burning and new,

A moon that hold the stars like ornaments on a tree,

A tree that has roots where we write in our new stories,

It is fiction and non-fiction,

It’s real, but it’s too good to be true,

Grab my hand and open your arms like pearly gates,

There’s a path to paradise in you.

 

Our world is a collection of still parts,

We create the light and we create the dark,

We create the sea below and the mountains above,

With one kiss,

One simple expression of our love.

 

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