A fresh, honest answer, wind whistling by--
Words tumble forth gracefully in spite of all
The tiny thoughts you can't bring yourself to lie.
The choice? Lie happily or suffer the fall.
Yet, I won't point the finger--dichotomy
All tangled up inside my gentleman's head.
I'll never bear the burden of glee to be
The truth behind words you think and those you said.
But will you remember the transparent life
When the vacuous facade blurs your vision?
I will. But I won't remind you of those moments, rife
With pity when looking at your decision.
However, I'll tell you what happiness takes,
If you please just let me make my own mistakes.

I sit and I wait, a paragon of pride--
Seeking to release the joy that sits alone.
A notion of importance that's on my side,
Smiling to itself when my own faults are shown.
Can we incite joy when we forget ourselves?
Because we emit this ray of hope and light
That struggles from the depths and, screaming out, delves
Back into the horror, praying for the sight
Of one. A single soul to ease what we need.
Soft hands caressing on a cool summer's eve;
A whispered word making me smile as I read;
Slightly clinging to me as I turn to leave.
We ask for so much in this world of mine.
Yet so little is needed to truly shine.

Does my poetry still hum with happiness flared?
A resonating joy that captures the heart.
Rapid revolutions and clarity paired
Within a perfectly disconcerting start.
But I rarely ponder the good and the well.
Instead, transmutations of the pain pour forth,
Preferring the brilliant fall than the swell.
Yet, a childlike giddiness provides warmth.
I can muster in the mire for a cause;
I am prone to capitalize on the pain.
But a burst of elation requires pause
To control this hope I can barely contain.
Ache and joy create the same amount of art,
But I'm ready for my share of the joyful part.

Who is that yet that does not ask the question?
What creates the soul within, what makes us yearn,
What transfers through without a single mention
Yet incessantly incites our heart to burn?
A willowy waver of the neck and head,
A vibration that travels the length of me,
And a mind enlightened by the words you said;
Yet I feel that your brilliance, you're blind to see.
So, I hope, only that I'm allowed to say
All that my voice can find the courage to speak.
I'll sit and dream about my life for today--
But tomorrow a new beginning I seek.
A key to find the piece to complete your whole:
A positive introspection of your soul.

Memories never die,
But feeling disappears.
Each waits in line to see the sign
That catapults the years.
Please, but worry not,
The love, it still presides
From the shaky start to the genuine heart
Within the tangled insides.

Yet we're older now,
Like butterflies, flit around,
Fly where they may but follow the wind's way--
Before they find the ground.
Let's take a deep breath.
Now smile, I'll smile too.
The girl is great, but the boy's been late--
But know that he still loves you.

Somber eyes stare past but disappointment stops.
Vision ceases when fate steps in, look up dear--
Here I am floating by where your head now drops
And here I am lifting your chin, lips so near.
I can't ask for gentle winds to stop blowing
Their burdens to destinations, up ahead.
Fate impedes for no man, not with us knowing
When we'll love, when we'll rise up, or be dead.
Allow happiness to permeate your soul.
Deviate from disgusting fear, oh my love.
You were created to come back to the whole,
Tonight gaze deep into the stars, up above.
Overcome the body, understand your mind.
Grip my hand as we watch the fate of the blind.

There are two versions of myself,
The one who tumbled from grace
And fell in love,
And the other to decline your
Voice and simply rise above.
But what version am I this day?
One who asks just where you been
Or the other contemplating the sin.
Yet I cannot ask with truthful intent
Because I know what's been lost,
What's been lent, and what just ain't.
So, I'll forge these whiskey dreams
Consisting of abstract colors framing
Resplendent screams and sorrows.
So, look away, batted lashes wafting
Fluttered vocal chords and sexy blows,
Crafting with feelings turning cold.
Let's take back those old thoughts,
All tired and fraught with worry.
There are versions of myself,
The one who tumbled, the one who fell,
One that rose above, and one with worry.
But what version am I this day?
But what version, I do not know.

I shan't ask for what I know isn't mine.
One day's gentle whisper reminding me
Of that which can still tarnish all my shine--
Realization dawning on memory.
Spited silver-grey clouds hovering by,
Shadows of shade identifying all.
Your shape contrasts, illuminating my
Reasoning mind held gentle in your thrall.
So, this metamorphosis will take place.
A logical heart will cease to ponder,
I will no longer see life as a race,
My love lost soul will no longer wander.
Yet, I cannot help but ask a favor:
Return my love if ever you find her.

I felt a familiar ache today--
My heart beat once and then withdrew.
It shook my core all through the day,
But then it stopped...so I did too.

For when I looked upon my heart,
I found it fine, all healthy fit.
How strange of it to play that part,
That faking pain while lonesome bit.

But who's to say my heart I lead,
When I'm not one to find a path.
My silenced mind will beg and plead,
Yet it's no match for my life's wrath.

But tomorrow I will wake to find
Today's new worries have up and fled.
My heart will wait as I search my mind
For thoughts I've lost and words I said.

Like a mute spectacle I stand, sighing,
sadly staring at the silent caged birds
that are now walking instead of flying;
i often worry that I'll lose my words.
Beautifully adorned I sit, thinking,
lamenting gorgeous juxtapositions,
ornate phrases, and new wonders—blinking,
i admire my strict living conditions.
Exhausted, so now down I lie, sobbing,
wondering to myself about this cage
that impedes my spirit and is robbing
me of my ability to feel rage.
I open my mouth to formulate sound,
hoping for an idea I haven't found.

I can ask myself two questions, this I know.
For within two answers is Where I feel right--
One to remind me of the things I have lost
And one to persuade them to return to sight.

Because what once was Lost can always be found;
And what can't be found should not Always be missed.
But cruel memory is a reminder now
Of one that was once so lingeringly kissed.

But, have we Known what was desired before?
Each Truth persisting in preparation of
The wanted, the Needed, the right, and the wrong
Humming with the righteousness of vibrant love.

Thus, as each syllable utters its Ripe moan,
We'll find answers in the symphonic echo:
Gentle, whirling Raptures that we longed to hear
Encompassing these feelings I Ache to show.

Light becomes insignificant when snow makes it easy to see
At night everything encased in a seal of white
It all has its description within covered or uncovered
The snow does this, enveloping and erasing further inquiry
Because we know only what has color and what is white
Defined merely by a frozen particle of water floating down
Forming a blanket of ultimate understanding for you and me.

I want my life to be like that.

I think God's taunting me with snow and my desire for simplicity, a desire for the ease of proper definition
My life has meaning, but not enough, only enough to tease
And there are a multitude of different shades of every color
Either metaphorically or literally, it seems excessive at times
Feelings run so deep they bear the risk of exhaustion via
The repetition of. The repetition of. The repetition of
Feeling the same exact way so many different times
That the emotion becomes a memory of what it used to be
And we try our best to remember how we felt years ago
When the emotion was a film of snow untouched
Resting gently upon a world we've come to understand
Bringing with it a new perspective on what we used to
Find so unbelievably beautiful we swore we had no words.

I wish my life was capable of either being or not being
I'd like just once to be covered with snow or uncovered
I'm growing weary of taking off all of my clothes to
Find different hues distort the preconceptions I had
Of my body when I thought I knew my image before
But I don't know, and tonight my world's washed white
And the only images I find in my head are ones helping
To define a world I had no grasp on in the first place.

So, I step softly but still the snow packs hard into my shoes
As I wander forward finding wonder in the same old things
I look back to see the steps leading me to where I stand
And I wonder if I stood here all night and didn't move,
The snow erasing all evidence of my journey to the middle
Of this field where I'm the tallest object for miles in a scene
Where my brown coat stands starkly against the ever shifting
Colors of the horizon and gentle zephyrs stir my hair. I wonder
If I could convince myself that I was the only thing that exists
When there's no more path leading to where I stand and
I can choose to no longer step forward to leave a trace
That maybe I can just stop moving and the world
Would dissipate and I would melt slowly into
The colorless world and no longer be the
Only object that ruins the scene of
What could possibly have been
A perfectly covered world
Without me in it.

Within the parameters of two likelihoods, I may be…
Covered and quickly disappearing under ultimate understanding
Uncovered and slowly crafting a memory you'll forget one day.
I suppose I'm glad for the red morning sun that melts it all away.

Your words laid a gentle stain upon my thoughts.
Even in that moment where I assumed you left,
A shimmering mirage left while looking in the sun,
I felt your words find purchase within my mind.

That's why I'm sitting here now, my half naked
Emotions dangling uselessly at the end of sentences.
Waiting for a word, your words, to cover them up
Like they used to, when smiling was full of appeal.

But I can't complain about love lost and longing for,
When the choices you made inflict changes on me.
Since it seemed a worthwhile cause to change your
Life; back when I thought effort constituted caring.

So, I'll pray for your words to myself in the mirror.
Reminding my eyes of the shape of your mouth.
If only to serve as a kind of temporary pleasure
Before I recall the onset of your tearful goodbye.

Cause I look to the sky at night or in the day
And find the same images conjure from the air.
A red tussled emptiness that denies me a breath.
A love tainted masterpiece designed to depress.

But nothing compares to the words on my brain;
Memories die, pictures erode, a smile is sneaky
Emotions fade, the sun sets, the sun rises, tears dry,
Eyes blink, glass breaks, and my life changes.

But words don't leave my mind, they're always there.
And I'll sit here, whispering them, while I stare
At the sky, the sun, with its brilliant blood-like light,
Eagerly awaiting the moment you return to my sight.

I'm caught in a dull haze. A rhythm less voice
Aching to find reason, to find words, to speak
To an unknown source that alleviates my choice
And might help to cull the havoc that I wreak.
A cacophony of logic, an explosion of thought
Amidst this curiously chilly night of summer;
If I'm content with lonely and all that I've got,
Then I've no desire to want anything from her.
Emotions ignite my mind and realizations incite
My tongue to speak and mouth to open wide.
It's an obvious lesson that I learn when I write:
My life is the follower and my mind is the guide.
I fear not the morning with its new decisions,
Since it's merely my life's chance at revisions.

I often wonder
If the tears that fall quiet
Are for me or not

A brief solitude
Followed by intense longing
Tease lips with a touch

But silence brings you
Harbinger of my lost love
To nowhere near me

Set me free, will you
Yet hold me close, can you please
Brief dichotomy

Sighs bring fogginess
Words echo vibrantly
Will they be for me

Trickling waters flow
Life hurries like the river
Waiting for the frost

Frames hold my picture
Memories hold my longing
Hands holding nothing

A whisper is a word spoken softly. A thought is an idea screamed softly.
But while I may not have the words to speak to make my thoughts known,
I can't imagine I'll be looked down upon for this empathetic dream so lofty:
Speak a name with warmth, say a name and smile, love is freed and flown.

I can't always get the rhythm right and I'm not always the sacrificial soul,
I don't always eradicate my ego and I certainly can't say I haven't lied.
But I promise that I'm the genuine, the true, antithetically duplicitous role,
Even if you can't see it, even if you won't feel it--compassion is implied.

So, don't think you don't inspire someone in the world--you do.
Sure, you made mistakes in the past, but all your heroes did too.

Wind blows brisk upon the back of the evening sky,
Yet, we don't mind the cold within each other's arms.
Tomorrow we'll wake and find Earth's new touch shy,
Influenced by our sly seduction and subtle charms.

We'll woo her and find she distorts myriad colors,
Whisper sweetly in her and find that she blushes.
Ply her with wine and discover her freshest lovers,
Caress her softly and watch as her blood rushes.

A lip's touch excites the red clay amidst her ground,
Finger tip trails explode along her rocky spine.
Press your face close and hear her grating sound
So long as you are reacting to her proper sign.

But tomorrow you'll wake to her shy new style,
A human's unique gift, the ability to not remember.
Alas,  Earth cannot and will be shamed for awhile
Whilst looking back on that lust-filled December.

Yet I sit and ponder within a shallow light she that lovingly caused each lonely night. Internal commotion aside, reflecting on external emotions I hide—but let's not stand on principle here. I know what's easier to discover when lost, except that which I've found to be the most important. That frustrating thing that life's complications have cost. I know I cannot sit behind words, a silently debonair grin intended to swoon, especially considering you won't even see me soon. I'm just pent up love mixed with longing anger looking in no certain direction for the thing I want. And for the first time, I really think for the first time, I know what I want…how I hate the fact. Depressed and lonely is forgivable, but lonely and knowledgeable of what it is I've lacked? How embarrassing.

Regardless, I'll take a moment to contemplate and remember sun-lit fountains splashing frigid water on petite feet, clouds beckoning my mind, and vibrant gray orbs reading me naked. I'll knock on the sky and slip this note under the door—maybe you'll find it and know what it's for. I miss you, even before I was smart enough to lock you away in my memory…even before then, I think I missed you.

Black images stand starkly against the flash of lightning tonight. A brief photograph of a world separated by windows which allow cool air to flow amid humid stretches—a bursting, frantic flight of a remembered early spring. It traces with a whispered touch across the sweat patches that litter my body. Warmth emanates from me, this energy vortex I call a body, tantalizingly slow across the room.

If I could seep through the screen of my window, I would, and float lazily along with the bursting photons of the storm. Flashing ideas to bewildered souls peering out of their own confined spaces wondering if they'll ever find their way out; if maybe, tomorrow will be the day they open their minds a modicum more to  become enraptured with themselves—not just the storm.

But I can't seep…hell, I can't even sleep. Instead I'll sit and absorb, becoming one with the dust, opening my mouth to breathe but letting my mind do the shouting. And I'll keep sending thoughts to the skies disguised like crackles of thunder, because like waves of lightning, we start at the ground and work our way up—brightness above.

So, for the moment, shield your eyes, lower your head and hunch your shoulders. You are not ready. One day I'll explain—one day you'll find your own truth, but you will be dazzled gradually. For I am someone who can read the spots in their eyes while grinning at the beauty, turn a torrent into poetry, and capture thunder in my mind.

Eventually you'll open your eyes and laugh with joy at the sight.

But for now the storm is mine.

Pure intention flashes a violet hued smile
As I breathe in the seconds to find a mile.
An unfounded worry that brilliance found
Will be a lightning smear echoing sound.

So, away we go. An understanding soul
Realizing that simplicity implies a role,
That attraction contains but cannot hold,
And an innocent kiss is far too bold.

But, please, listen…Breathe. All is well.
My mask distorts hues so you can't tell
What is lost and what is attained:
I'm aware of what shouldn't be contained.

I take sure steps to encompass this emotion
While accepting my internal commotion.