What made
us so beautiful
Is that we
were never
likely to happen,
And here we are;
Pretending
to be oblivious
To the obvious
love waves
Bouncing back
and forth
Between
our hearts
This thing
Is a never
ending start...
Where the moments
we are meant to share,
Are carelessly
forced apart.

Oh my love,
I’ve buried
My worries
In the sand
Of your shores,
Even if the
Raging waters
Dig deep
To find them
And give them
The same
Warmth
That I miss
When laying
Cuddled up
In the coconut palms
Of your hands,
I could feel
The fire,

Oh, beautiful deity
Of a seasons past
Where all year
Was spring,
I’ve grown so
Scared of love,
So malnourished,
You could almost
See the mountain
Range on my chest,
And I’ve only grown
Hungry for the look
In your eyes and
The sound of your
Voice when speaking
My name.

I’ve been
caught
In a long
forgotten
Snare,
its claws
Deep
into my
My flesh
scratching
And itch
in my
Bones
I haven’t
Been
able
to reach,
As I
sit and
Contemplate
Death,
the leafs
Of an
old tree
Slowly
catch
A ride
upon
The
wind,
And
touch
The
soil
In front
of
My feet
with
Nurture
and love,
Making
me
a bed
To
lay on.

Someone
Said,
No one
Baths in
The same
River twice,
Because
When you
Come back,
New water
Will be
Flowing,
But it’s
More
Complicated
Than that
When it
Comes to
Those you
Love,
People are more
Like the soil
Underneath,
That erodes
Over time,
With so much
Life to give,
And so
Much growth.

she doesn’t read my poetry anymore;

sent every script, faithfully, always honored & acknowledged with a pithy comment, then came the occasional emojis,  then too often silences, longer and longer, made me realize
it was an imposition, created excuses,
finally ceased sending…

so now there is no doubt,
my muse is
disused, and I feel,
forlornly bitter and
use-less lessened

look for excuses to provide her a dance,
no poem
too similar, overly familiar,
not reflective
of our true reality, still,7&

she doesn’t read my poetry anymore;*

cannot muster up the bitter mustard I feel,
and see the little, minor, signals all is not
perfect, select edit, make disappear, tiny
grimaces, misperceived caustics asides,
and the reality is such, that wince internally,
but the love poetry has been put aside…
and

I stand here wrapped in
the dark of morning
the firefly lights
Bounce color into my retina,
Twisting and turning
The dark shade
of green of the trees
Around me.

And, as the shadows
of morning lightens up,
Buildings color
my peripherals,
Success and failures
of other people
Stand high and low.

A jungle of Melodies,
That intertwine
with what I’m feeling,
Spider webs left
behind gloom over,
Empty, empty and Sad.

I can’t seem to get out,
Thoughts that follow
me everywhere I go
Are starting
to come out,
like cobwebs of
a spider who
lost his way
Vacant for the
next person to fill,
I run and I trip
And I get up
When I just
want to lay down.

I miss the moments
in my life
Where it felt
so obvious,
Like I’ve lived
this before,
So easy as if
it was pumping
Through my veins,
Just like walking,
Just like running,
Just like breathing.

I don’t know
what I want
In 5 years,
Or what I
Want for
Next year,
In 5 years I’ll
Be 29,
So close to 30
I don’t know if
I want to make it
To 30,
But if I do I just wish
For me to be happy.