To bask within the sunlight,
rejoicing in her glow
I race toward the heavens
on wings borne of my soul.
As Icarus hath shown me,
the sun doth melt my wings.
But as he falls toward his fate
the flightless bird still sings.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
Maybe you loved me once.
Maybe you've hated me for a while.
I guess I'll never know.
I do know that you've moved on.
I finally know what the silence means.
And I know that, however you felt about me - I loved you.
If I knew then what I know now, I'd still have reached for you.
Because as much as it hurts...
It was worth it.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
Is a folder on my computer.
Its full of words and pictures.
Some make me smile, some make me sad.
Every one of them makes me remember.
And I shouldn't do that anymore.
Today I organized it lovingly, revisiting some of my favorite memories of you,
one.... last.... time.
and then moved it onto a storage drive and put it away.
Hopefully some day I can allow myself to remember. Just.... not today.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
I saw your glance as I drove away on Saturday night.
I wondered what thoughts you had as you saw me.
I wondered what you felt.
I wondered if words were screaming to be said inside of you.
As the bike moved forward, my heart tugged backwards toward you
and I wondered if you felt it, too.
I remembered your lips, and wondered if you remembered mine.
I wondered how long your gaze lingered as I disappeared from your sight.
I wondered, but I guess I'll never know - all I saw was a glance.
Because I was afraid you would see me glancing at you.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Etched upon my flesh,
Burned into my soul,
Until my bones become dust
You shall remain: my Dulcinea.
Forever your Quixote,
m.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Its a terrible thing,
to love someone who would wound me so casually
and wield that power with such disregard.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
She is my Dulcinea, my Erato:
My fantasy and my Muse.
I am the lighthouse in the storm:
the one to guide her safely home.
If your heart is open to walk this path
take my hand and I will tell you more....
I have an affinity for the language.
Some have called me a cunning linguist.
But I struggle to craft the next line,
Words to tell her exactly how I feel.
because....
"motorboat your hoo-ha" doesn't really flow.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
To touch your cheek,
To kiss your forehead.
To look in your eyes
and see my Lauren again.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
I have never aspired to "art".
But this passion tempts that word.
L'Inspiration: she was poetry in motion,
a sad song, to which I dared dance.
A ghost lingers, the muse returns
to gift me with this beautiful pain.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC