to read someone like a book
you would have to stay
reading until the end

Searching for a book of matches,
I came across one of your poems
from 1993. It wasn't written on a
matchbook; no.  It was written on
a page torn right from my heart.

The line about how a blind man
helped you to see that words hold
more love than truth still burns my
eyes.  Seems you were right; and
you were wrong, too. The ink was
no longer as blue as your eyes
that day when we last held hands.
That day you penned these words
to my heart. That very day; our last.

Your poetry used to make me smile,
or laugh, or curse your soul for writing
words that I could never seem to find.
This poem was your best; your last.

The ink has faded and ran  in places
from all these years of tears shed and
long dried. More tears would do no good. 
I can hardly read these faded lines. You still
would not be here to kiss them away,
to tell me that everything is going to be
alright; no.

r ~ 5/8/14

nine years old
such a beautiful girl
sparkly eyes
long, dark hair
and still haven't lost her
zest for life.

she gets tucked in at night
and is sung a lullaby
everything is quiet and happy
but only up until this point.

in the eye of the storm,
her covers are ripped off of her
her pajamas torn apart
her face is filled with
tears
sweat
fright.

****** in the dark
she sings him a lullaby
scarred for life
devastating
and who would have thought
it was her brother all along?

Morning comes slowly/
    White paint on a blue canvas
    Lofty masterpiece.

r ~ 5/7/14

Her infatuation with the moon was intoxicating.
The way the reflection settled on her wide pupils in
the moments before my lips whispered over hers
With stories of my past.
She told me to conquer the world and grasp
All that could fit within my arms- which is how I got her.
Her breathes while she slept were my favorite lullaby
Because watching her sleep was better than any
Movie. Her lips always bled at night
Because during the day she would bite down on them
And the shards of the words falling unsaid would cut them.
She used to tell me to never get too attached to someone
Not worth tripping over;
I guess that's why when she left I
Ended up on the ground.

What's meant to be,
Will be.
It may take a year,
It might take a day,
But what's meant to be
Will always find a way

Girls.

They ******* up.
They come in like a soothing summers honey,
Then rip you apart from the inside out with blunt steel.

Would you have
     our stars not shine?
Would you have darkness
      be your shrine?

r ~ 5/5/14

I'm not an
honors student or
an athlete.
I don't have
good grades and
I fail all the time.

          Still, I bet that I
    smile more
than you.

There she lay
Her tears making music
Her pain a sweet melody
Her eyes ocean deep
And there she lay
Hoping to see the sight
Her parched heart
Her sore eyes
So longed
Days passed
And then years
And there she lay
Hope glittering
In traitor eyes
Slowly drowning
In her tears