K. Rush

cloth 8/25/10

kararush — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 04:40:37 +0000

cloth

i am not a tissue,
   to be used and thrown away.
i am not a napkin,
  to be soiled and washed each day.
i am not a cover,
  to protect things not adored.
i am not a tapestry,
  to be admired once, then ignored.

i am a blanket,
  to keep you warm,
  to hide you from the monsters,
  to comfort all your fears
  to make you never want to get up,
  to be your best friend
  to look neat and tidy
  to feel the best when messy
  to be your place to dream
  to soak up all your tears
  to never tell your secrets
  to always be there for you,
  night and day.
i am your blanket.

Facebook Statuses

kararush — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 02:55:10 +0000

3/21/10

“dreamboy”

last night i dreampt and saw your face,
the sight of which i wont erase.
i reached to you and said, “amor-”
but you softly, gently shut that door…

3/22/10

“candleburn”

thoughts keep running through my head,
the ones that fill me deep with dread.
an old flame, a new-cut wick,
confusion running in me thick.

3/22/10

“nightthoughts”

the sky is dark, the stars are out,
i’m trying hard to not feel doubt.
and so i’ll sit here for a while,
so that i can dream of your smile…

“1 a.m.” 2/25/10

kararush — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 06:44:41 +0000

1 a.m.

the world seems possible at 1 a.m.
when the darkness swims all around
when there is not a word to be heard
and nature reigns most profound.

naught is unfeasible at one in the morn
when sleep looms far yet so near
when all that you dream can be as it seems
and nothing can strike you with fear.

it can be achieved at one-in-the-day
when your thinking is clouded by hope
when you’ve got something new, barely thought through
and its drugging you cheered like a dope.

ideas can be great at one past the strike
when your mind clear is out the door
when all that you see is you and then me
and nothing less, nothing more.

how grand are these thoughts at one-oh-oh
when the future looks so gold and bright
when you’re filled with emotion which begs for devotion
and nothing could seem more right.

everything glitters in witching hour
when your eyes are replaced with your heart
when magic’s abound simply swirling around
and you’ve gotten it down to an art.

it’s all so rosy at the one of the clock
when room is darkened and dead
when nothing’s alarming and you dream of prince charming
and all this while safe in your bed.

myth doesn’t exist at an hour past new
when you’re safely tucked in your sheets
when you’re on a whim thinking of him
and trying to night-time your heartbeats.

the world seems possible at 1 a.m.
when the mind is wishing a wish
when nothing is flawed and you’re perfectly awed
and everything yet nothing’s amiss.