Footsteps on the winding way,
Memories that linger, night and day,
A glance behind, a heart that's true,
Fondness for moments, old and new.

In every step, a story's told,
Of laughter, tears, of young and old,
The road unwinds, a path we've made,
With every step, a memory displayed.

The joys and pains, the pleasures too,
Are etched upon our hearts, forever true,
A smile that's shared, a bond that's strong,
Reminders of where we belong.

I cherish these moments we share,
And hold them close, with love and care,
For in the memories, we find our way,
And the journey's beauty, every single day.

Her parted lips frozen in time,
Wet, in fiery red, sublime.
Dripping with passion, a sensual hue,
A masterpiece, both bold and true.

Painted , a vibrant, crimson stream,
Flows with desire, a burning dream.
Her lips, a whispered promise sweet,
A taste of passion, a surrendering heartbeat.

The brushstrokes, bold and free,
Dance with color, wild and carefree.
A painted vision, a work of art,
A celebration, of her passionate heart.

In the twilight, our bodies entwine,
Like shadows dancing, slow and divine.
The world outside fades, as we lose ourselves deep,
In the warmth of our love, our hearts softly creep.

Your skin against mine, a gentle caress,
Sends shivers down my spine, a sweet, sweet stress.
Our lips meet, and the world stands still,
In this ramshackle world, our love is a thrill.

In the darkness, our passion ignites,
A flame that burns bright, a love so right.
Our bodies move as one, in perfect time,
As we surrender to the rhythm of our love's sweet crime.

~
Hear me, and heed my woe,

i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
              how thy smileth reaches
                            thy eyen and
                                    crinkles the c'rn'rs
                                                  immensely.
Thy confidence, a flame
          yond burneth with f'rvent might,
   intimidating, yet draweth me in,
                            as moth to candle's lighteth.
Thy passion is contagious,
                 thy excitement a thrill,
    i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
                                    but mem'ries ling'r still

i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
          as thee gazeth into mine own eyen
                                        bef're our lips meeteth
    our intimate moments,
                                 a sensual rapture,
           thy corse, a w'rk of art,
                           sculpt'd p'rfectly in all its
                                                   muscular stature

i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
             the way we w're,
                     young with a future,
                                         we couldst not seeth.
      What ifs and maybes,
               a maze, i tryeth to escapeth,
                      longing f'r what couldst've been,
           a heart yond acheth.

Ev'ry fare thee well,
                             a pang in mine own chest,
         feareth of nev'r seeing thee again,
                                      and all yond is repress'd
Thy absence, a weight
              yond i doth striveth to shaketh,
     wond'ring wh're thou art,
                                       what thou dost maketh.
   Art thou joyous, art thou free from careth?
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
                     yet some days, 'tis hard to beareth.

In sooth,
    i am not depress'd,
           n'r doth i feeleth the blues, wh'reupon
i f'rce myself to not bethink on Thee …
                            by mineth owneth shall, anon.
~

Hmmmm, who are you….
In my closet of old skeletons,
you snoop and you pry
Seeking clues in my words,
to unravel me, you may try
But I ask, with a curious stare
Who are you,
to question who I am,
and why I care?

A lessen learned to whisper softly to my soul
To calm the storms that rage and make me whole
Finding the courage to stand tall and bright
To shine my light and let my heart take flight

Discovering the power of my own gentle voice
A voice that soothes, that heals, that makes my heart rejoice
Learning to love the imperfections that make me unique
To see the beauty in my scars,
(there are many)
and the strength that they speak

There is strength in letting go
(self forgiveness)
of the shame and the pain
Rising above the doubts and the fears that once remained
To trust myself, and listen to my heart
To follow my intuition, and to never depart

It’s the love that I hold for myself, and the care that brings
That nurture my spirit, and allows my soul sing
I am enough, I am worthy, I am loved and I am bright
I am my own best friend, my own guiding light.

December's twilight, soft and gray
Twinkling lights, a festive sway
Christmas magic, all around
Yet, melancholy's gentle sound

Memories of laughter, young and free
Children's wonder, eyes aglow with glee
Reflecting on the tree's shining *****
A bittersweet reminder of life's fragile walls

Eleven winters past, a loss so true
My father's absence, felt anew
December's joy, now tinged with pain
A heart remembering love, and love in vain

In this season of sparkle and light
I search for wonder, a fleeting sight
A glimpse of childhood's untainted delight
A respite from sorrow, on this winter's night

My heart finds solace in the love that remains
Among the bittersweet feeling it still conveys
The softness of the season's lights eases the pain
Amid the merriment of others in these Christmas days.

We do so hard grasp these nascent bodies
Of thought that any occurrence of change
Brings with it pain. Deceitful aspect strange
This attribute of sentience. Shared lies
Self formed and self believed, and fierce beloved
Distract the known conscious moment again
And again in heroic effort vain
To shut out the ego damning dreaded
Truth of universal equanimity
Non specific to the fabricate me
The i perceiving. No answers can be
Found to malformed questions. The path to see
Begins with forgetting. But to uproot dreams
Of self repeatedly lived, hatedly looms.

the lies we tell ourselves are
   part of our consciousness
globules of satan's blood drip
   into our souls