I know I have to let you go,
For the reasons I don't know...
Does love always have to be logical?
If so, why do they say it's magical...
We are miles apart and,
time is like running sand.
I don't know if I'll see you again, And would it be a loss or gain?
Sometimes, it's like I'm giving up all...
The rising hopes for you suddenly fall!
My mind drifts away to somebody else...
But my heart screams out at the mess.
Late at night, when the moon is full and shiny,
And I'm alone, I wonder about my destiny!
What it would be really at the high time
It's like tossing to get head or tail of a dime!
Should I then really let go...?
Only thinking about it is, painful oh!
I simply don't know and it ain't fair...
Like an unheard voice, hung in mid-air.

I am a polar bear
I sit on my iceberg

I don't like hugs , never did never will
But hugging you , I'd ask time to stand still

I also don't like when two mouths touch
But I'd kiss every inch of you , pretty much

Honey is from the same place as bee stings
I hate to look like an idiot or forget things

But I'd happily be an idiot to your eyes
I am a polar bear under the polluted skies

pianos and cellos were my favorite sound
When you talk ,  my new favorite is found


The iceberg will slowly melt
And I the polar bear with what I felt
Will drown to my death

And later I realised

She
was
the
Diamond
and
I
was
the
Case
just
a
case
Supp­orting
her

You said you’d call at 8. I watched the clock tick by from 7:55 to 7:56 counting down the four extra minutes there was in this hour before I got to hear your voice. I try to keep myself occupied but my head fills up with so much excitement knowing we’ll be able to share a conversation soon, ideas and opinions flooding each other’s brains with “well this is what I think” and “when I look at the stars I wish I could be sitting next to you.” But it’s 8:15 now and my phone still hasn’t rung. Waiting on your precious call made time slow down for me because I sat there and waited. And waited, and waited but I didn’t realize I was waiting for nothing. I text you to ask if something is wrong or try to refresh your memory knowing that we had this phone call appointment together. You text me back immediately explaining you couldn’t and that you would have told me but you are just so busy. But with what? I text you back explaining I under-stand but I have never been so confused. Three days later we schedule to see one another, as plans follow through I’m happy that you didn’t forget. I shrug off you missing our phone date and begin smiling at you pouring my rawest emotions into my grin. You tell the ******* the phone you just need five minutes. Those pass exactly as time does. She hadn’t experienced the 8:15 so why did I? You left accordingly touching me gently like a flower making me feel as if I were to be touched again by you. Two weeks later I get subtle messages from you and you continue to not find time for me. I can no longer take the abuse you are beating into my head with your words and excommunicated actions. Do you want to make love to me as we hear the rain fall from the skies or dig into my brain casting a tornado inside to scramble my thoughts every-where not knowing where to pick anything up. Either way your intentions cause an emotional disaster. You said you’d call at 11 to apologize for the way you’ve been behaving so I wait, once more. It hit midnight before rivers flew down my cheeks and then you called, but I gave you a 12:15 and you gave me a goodbye.
-S

Jingle click
keys, hinge
squeak;

step on  five
gallon bucket,
hoist out

window, disappear
Durham Avenue,
walk.

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

The gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,—
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy love.