( sonnet )*

With looks she is keeping, so rare,
Fruitful eyes in red boughs of hair,
Hands for reaching into the winds,
Breaths gasping of new beginnings,
With looks she keeps this time at bay,
Of new days dreaming, slipped away,
Here the strung, fey huntress will go,
A flung goddess and her quivering bo,
When flowers greet the sun and wave,
In bright meadows of blossoms made,
With looks she is keeping, nows alive,
Heartwoods of longings boxed inside,
How many suitors for beauty to hold—
When gusty old age so soon enfolds?

Growing out my hair,
But it's hard when I look like
Wolverine's father.

When people leave
When you're only a memory
When your pill bottle is empty
When love is no longer an emotion
When you're tired of feeling alone
Only damaged people with ever understand you

To separate from youth,

The mind mastered
And a brazen flame forwards
The march

Watching all innocence
Fade, devoured by time
And taking every moment

Watching the son become
The father in a blank slate

While knowing the woman
Under the sun, every day
A work of progress.

Where I belong, or destined to be
Is not exactly clear like
Crystalline doubt with fear in tow.
No,
Not on the ridge where I stand partly
In sky atop a roof not there
In its geometrical theory.
With the straight line
Like hammer to wood
Curved yet target laid,
Walking sticks on top of sticks
I nail my presence to homes
Yet homely to be made.
Not on the porch where lemonaid
Will be poured and yet to be's
Will extend on in time as an
Echo lingers of what no one sees.

I build a home
And leave a peice of me unknown.

How many children have to suffer,
Each and every year?
Being abandoned by their families,
And shedding many years.

They should never feel as though,
They have no place at home.
No place they feel welcome,
That is why many roam.

Roam around the streets,
Abandoned in the cold.
All left to wonder,
Why were they told.

Told to leave this world,
And just go wall away.
But this is something,
That we should never say.

Everyone deserves to be loved,
And to have a place to be.
To be cared for all the time,
Even overseas.

To you

I'm not really sure how I'll start this letter, which is a first since you know I love writing them. I'm trying to picture your reaction as you read these words, and I am both relieved and frightened. Relieved, because I finally have what I have been wanting to say for months off my chest. Frightened, because I may be making a grave mistake that I'll surely suffer the consequences of later.

You are like a drug to me. You're not good for me, and I'm not good for you. Yet I keep wanting you, missing you, craving your presence. You still take up about 90% of the thoughts in my mind and I wake up, every morning, thinking about you. I've been doing that for months, and I wonder when I'll stop, and it scares me to know that it may not be for a while.

Is there a reason for this letter? Yes, there is. I need you to know the words I have never told you. If I had to die tomorrow, I can promise you this: I'll die regretting not having told you this. You meant so much to me, and yet somehow you still do. Everywhere I go, you seem to follow me, haunting me like a ghost. And, to be completely frank, I deserve better than you. And I felt like you never appreciated me, but at the same time, it was my fault for not showing you who the true me was. I was always scared, so stupidly scared. I never showed you my true ability to love, and for that I am sorry.

I don't exactly know what I'm asking for you, or if I'm asking for anything at all. But know this - I miss you, and if I could redo our time together, I would.

I hope you have a good life. It hurts me to know I won't be apart of it. But hey, people come and go. That's life. Maybe we will both find someone better.

- Someone who was once your everything x