Nothing good ever comes up with something so beautiful.

I heard they found a fossil on Mars,
impossible things are beginning to happen.
Soon enough, we will gloriously collapse and crumble
and the ashes will turn into gold,
and the only thing I'll remember
is the sound of your heartbeat
and the flashing pair of cinnamon eyes,
over the bar's blinking lights.

You are the epitome of every single thing I'm afraid of.
You break things because you don't know how to take care of them.
And I said I've been broken for too long,
I won't be the window anymore,
I will be the stone.

But you we're smiling when you kissed me.
We break each other until we're happy
we hurt each other and call it love.
Our love smolders and it was so beautiful.

our lips will never meet
nor our fingers intertwine
and so bless my dreams
for indulging what's not mine

She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

I'm a wayward wayfarer
People see my explicitness
My connotations
remain
obscure.

If I could have you back
for just one day,
I’d tell you all the things
I never did say…

I’d tell you I love you
and that I always will,
I’d tell you all my joys
even my little thrills.

I’d tell you my dreams
and sadness’s too,
I’d tell you my dark secrets
that you never knew…

I’d tell you about the love
deep in my heart,
I’d tell you of the day
I was torn apart…

I’d tell you how I miss you
and wish you were here,
I’d tell you everything
I hold so dear…

If I could have you back
for just one day,
I’d find a way
to continue the stay…
~

No more poems, thank you;
I think that I'm done.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

Please turn off the music;
My songs are all sung.
I think the night's over,
Although it's still young.

No more words, I beg you;
Just slice off my tongue!
They're just wasted air,
From a withering lung.

I've no more left to say;
Time to blot out the sun.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

Eyes are the window to the soul,

But what if,

You don't have one of those?

a sky of caring
a rabbit foot on a chain

two 6 packs
3 friends

take me back to the river
by the railroad tracks

and shelly
and keats
and junior kimbrough

take me back
to the river by the railroad tracks

and the flat pennies we held
in the palms of our hearts


fall
is a forgiving season

so take me back to the river by the tracks

where the river runs
deep
and wide
and the memories have souls