Memories I forgot long ago
Mother and I frolicking through a meadow

Hands held tight together, chained
Her soul in mine, preordained

Beautiful Rose columns entwined as a whole
Barren was my sole when I jumped
through that beautiful knoll

“Why would something so beautiful be so rough”?
“When you’re that beautiful you must be tough”. She said in rebuff

“Then how will I display my love to such Rose who keeps me at bay”?
“Those who truly love such Rose knows  how to portray, to keep away such unworthy prey”. She said in dismay

Young at age, yet such refined words gave my soul much to crave
Yonder I put that Rose, although there I’ll be each stage

Physically be with that Rose always you not
Paint that Rose with praise for all of days, not what you bought, or what you fought, no other gift will lift as such, naught

No other love will ever approach, nay can ever replace such love for a Rose or that of a mother
Naked is that Rose with no thorn, forlorn just as all of those, native is that Rose with no lover

Such a Rose must be protected from the worries of life that make life hectic
So let that Rose be, respect how it’s protected, your neglect may make its thorns as sharp as a knife, always stay connected

Vibrant as nature, diverse as life, different as you
Variety is a color many souls abuse, but can’t relate, taken for granted, but on the right canvas, creates the perfect madness. I’m familiar with the color, are you?

Life, as fickle as that Rose, more beautiful than those, but do not take lightly
Love, sweet as that Rose, everyone knows, or when you hold too tightly?

Keen was my mother as she patched me, pain in her eyes from what she’d seen. The growth of a son, oh so much to be done

Agony in her eyes, as strong as gasoline, sometimes life can be an arson
Alive as a being, potent as kerosene, pain is more than an action, it’s a person

Kiss she gave, as we laid. I slept in her lap, my soul wept. Not from the pain, from two souls, mother and son. I watched the Rose, I told her, “I felt your pain, I would do it again, please tell me, does that make us one...”?

Don’t confuse the two
Happiness and Love.
They usually go together
Hand-in-hand,
But they are not the same.

I can Love and still be miserable
I can be Happy and not Love
Ultimately,
Find someone who gives you both.
And you’re set
Now They can’t use you.

they call you sunshine —
your smile fascinates the clouds,
your eyes bemuse the skies,
your soul radiates joy.

they call you sol —
some are afraid of your scathing warmth
but you’re still a timeless beauty
every single time you fall.

You are gorgeous, simply beautiful
the fact, indisputable, irrefutable
you are worth it all, and you're enough
thank you for being the you I know
and have come to love.
I love you without hesitation.
Words of Affirmation

If I were there with you now,
I'd be giving you a comforting cuddle
I'd run my hand through your hair and hold you close
a kiss to the forehead, pure, not sensual
I'd hold your hands, warm them with mine
and be with you all the time, because to you it means so much
Physical Touch

I'd get you your favorite ice cream
with extra toppings, just how you like it
I'd write you letters and poems, I'll send them in the mail
I'd leave you small notes, and make you small trinkets
I'd get you the first editions of your favorite books,
and make you the shelf on which they'd be living
Gift Giving

We could go out to the city, just the two of us
Take a walk through the park, sit and talk for hours
I'll be there for you, and only you
you'd have my 100% undivided attention
I could go to yours, or you could come to mine
and that's all we'd ever need, each other's
Quality Time

Would you like a hand with that?
I'm here to help. I'll help you sleep on time
and wake you in the morning with breakfast in bed
don't stress about your workload we'll work together instead
I can proofread your essays, and help with your homework
We'll work on things together, as no problem should concern us
Acts of Service

we tried to bury the dead
clawing at memories
hard as beet roots,
garnet colocasia,
rotting,
manicured nails in caked film,
dirt and violet water
whimper séance spells
at our ankles -

I tried to listen
but did not understand -

were we burying sorrow,
or digging it up?

They warned me to watch for my hands because
I might cut them picking up the broken pieces of others.
They warned me to watch for my eyes because
after seeing their problems my sight would lose all it’s colours.

I believed good people were like candles
as they’d burn themselves out to give others light
I believed good people were like the dark of the night
as they'd be there to help the stars shine bright

My hands may be criss crossed with cuts and scars,
my eyesight dim, and in need of glasses
my body may be patched and riddled with burn marks
and I may have fallen into the depths of darkness

So often I believed that no one was there to help the helper

It was hard, and the map of 3rd degree burns and nicks
are a testament to my journey, my daily crucifix
But I think I’ve found the balance, the fine fine line
between madness and sanity. Between helping others and myself

I’ve learnt to shine brightly for others
like the moon, both light and dark
whilst not setting myself on fire
and still allowing others to shine stark

My eyes still see the wonder in the world,
my hands still craft joy, still tinker with happiness.
To you my friend, if you're anything like me,
know it's all worth it, and you will be helped, you will be found.