What are you scared of
he asked
like he'd never been afraid
just jump
he commanded
as though all his beds were made
I'll catch you*
he claimed
as I began to walk away

and so he caught
when I jumped
and I was not afraid.

My poetry is not for you.
My heart is.
My words belong to the wind.
Emotions cause this volcano to explode.
A release of rhythm, of prose
Of joys and of pains
Of memories of today.

You are a muse.
That's amusing.
A tempest of a temptress,
Your touch sings maladies on my soul.
A dirge of crystal tears
Reflecting lost hope
Lost love.

This poem is not for you.
Yours is a smile that lightens
This burdensome heathen.
Whilst your scorn leaves new scars
Over old,
Like a worn patchwork cloak,
That no wizard ever wore
But this one dons with the certainty
Of the pious
And the loved.

Your high intellect is a slim shield for the heart that bleeds black death beneath it.

It need not die.
Though all is mortal and finite know this
My love for you is eternal.
It is within my love the light that will hold that blackness at bay.
A wall more than a shield.

So drop your weaponry my darling. Sheath that sharp wit for another day
For another lover
For I am not your enemy
In me you find your man.

I really do have my moments of guilt,
But also too afraid to lose what we have built,
Are you playing a game, and I don't know the position?
Or is this a transition to something great,
And night I'm alone and it's myself I hate,
But when I wake up to a clenched phone,
still smiling about the dream of me and you,
And a bench,
It, like the day, has been renewed,
So should I stay selfish and unflinching,
Even though the protests and picket signs,
Are crossing over to my mind,
Or realize,
That I never want to have a day,
Where I can't say,
Good morning, and I won't leave,
No matter what come,
And I am here to stay.
Maybe we both need to hear that for once in our lives,
Someone isn't leaving.