The red brick house
that sits at the end of Carnegie Court
is where I grew tall
with markings in the door way
and my secrets written on my closet wall
or thats where they used to be
before they were hidden by a layer of fresh paint
and we moved away from the Bradford pear
that sat outside my window
that I climbed everyday
Plano is where my Grandparents live
in a house that smells of coffee beans
and sewing machines
old books lined up on the wall
with pictures my Grandpa took of brilliant waterfalls
an older piano where I first learned to play
and a fire place that we use to light together on Christmas Day
Colorado holds many memories
from the many summers I’ve spent with my family
pulling our camper from one park to the next
seeing all the beauty the world has hidden
beneath foliage and the crystal waters
in the rock and the caverns
behind falls and between the trees
lies God’s beauty of more than just birds and bees
the flowers and the fruits
and the smell of fresh pine always reminds me
the reason we revisit from time to time
The photos that climb my stairs
are from memories that will never need repairs
the good and the bad have all shaped me in some way
and I am who I am needless to say
So I sit in my room
looking past my poster covered walls
remembering the times
that were worthy of this black ink
listening to my music
and writing in sync
knowing that now
still so much awaits me
and the world is still out there
ready to embrace me
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
sparks fly
as you dance under the stars
running in circles
leaving behind only
smoke
and a nostalgic tinge
that will forever last
on this fourth of July
j.h.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
I saw you
leaning against the wall
looking around
as if you were waiting
for someone else
I found the courage
to shout my name above the crowd
expecting for you to turn to face me
except you chuckled
still staring ahead and
I wondered if it was something I said
yet you grabbed my hand
led me to the dance floor
and helped me move my body
in ways I had never done before
and you came close enough
for me to feel your breath
and touch your chest
and all the rest
which I thought may have been
just a dream
was us connecting
becoming like a seam
j.h
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I stand alone
on this bridge
as it begins to crumble
beneath my stance
and I tremble
as my ground drops
out from under me
and I'm left alone
without a bridge
to help me get home
j.h.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
I've spent a lot of time
wondering
if I've met you
and if I have
was it for long
or was it only a glimpse
have we touched?
have we kissed?
I've spent lots of time
thinking about you
yet I'm pretty sure you don't know
that I exist
but sometime
soon I hope
our paths will cross
because love
is inevitable
j.h.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
admitting what you mean to me
would be like breaking
my heart all over again
admitting what I could have with you
would be like rebuilding
a wall only to have it crumble again
admitting what I feel for you
would only cause me
to be in a world of hurt again
and as many agains as there are
there's only one I dread the most
and that's you leaving
again
j.h.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
I could describe your image
the curves of your body
as if you were standing before me
I could describe the smell
of every t-shirt you own
as if it were labeled with the scents name
I could describe the taste
of your lips when we collide
as if they were a dream I never forgot
I could describe you
as so many things
but my favorite is
the fact that you're mine
j.h.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
the smell of pines surrounds me
while I snap a picture of the winding road
ahead lies the unknown
but together
we will venture on
awaiting
inviting
what is to come
j.h.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
late night phone calls
soft whispers here and there
but do you really understand
how much I honestly care?
if I had it my way
we would be back together
hand in hand
but to you
I'm just a late night call
a soft whisper to share
nothing to be proud of
and it will never be my way
j.h.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
the vinyl spins around
as the needle dances
gliding over the surface
allowing the music to fill to room
surrounding the ones
I care about most
j.h.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC