You and I
have a story
behind closed doors,
sneaking at night,
stealing kisses,
secretly holding hands.

But you and I
both know
this story
shall never be told
not even to a single soul.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

i’ll probably stumble to the driveway
before the stars are all done shining
find a place still open
where the locals are unwinding

i got a fresh pack and a pocket of cash
ready to spend my last check
on the first girl that looks my way
forgetting all the word she’ll say
doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone by day

i know a lot of people
upset with the way i’m living
but i’ve never been known
for making good decisions

"I'm scared"
She mumbled into his shoulder
As he held her tightly to his chest
"Of what"
He whispererd as he tilted her face
To meet his
"Of the way you look at me"
"And how's that"
"Like you love me
With an intensity I've never seen before"

i couldn't figure out what was worse
smoking or loving you
either one would turn my lungs black
and stop my heart eventually

if God created the earth in seven days,
who’s to say He won't turn your rainfall
into sunshine in one moment?