I'm bad with dates and names and numbers
But I know the color of your eyes matches the sky in the middle of June before the rainstorm hits Florida
And I know that your skin is the same shade of tawny as the deck on the porch of my mother's best friend's vacation home back in Michigan
And I know that your hair is just as soft as the kittens I pet in the shelter where I cried because I had to pick only just one
And I can pick your scent out of a lineup of boys with every single variation of Axe body spray spread among them
So I can't remember the day we met, or the name of your grandmother or the number of times we have kissed or held hands
But I am a writer, and the essence of your life will never die as long as I have a pen and a paper

i just want you too see me
i don't want you to be with me
they say actions speak louder than words
but words are powerful believe me
so be careful how you speak
i won't always have the answers
but i will always answer if you need to speak.

when you start
feeling as if
just being you
    is not enough ,..

when you see
the sunlight slipping away
sliding into the ocean
and the outbound tide
    is pulling strong ,..

   gravity throbs downward ―
you see it's weight groan
pacing in lonely eyes,

you feel it's burden
bear down on
a wayfaring stranger
   wandering away alone ,..
wondering what went wrong

stalled by a riverside
frozen in time ;
walking on slippery rocks
and fallen stars,
searching for peace
along the meandering shoreline

the waterfall surrenders
a river's silent lament ;
the storm gales' surge stirs
the urge for moving on

a heart broken knows
how fickle tides change
which way the wind blows ,..

which way the rain
     comes falling down ―

watershed moments
undulating
serpentine rivers,

unbridled terrain waters
veritably cascading  beyond
blurred latitudes,
uninhibitedly drifting
     in shapeless symmetry ―

a deep ocean rises
with the calling tide's
murmur,

  the shorebirds linger ;
hole up with the peace
of the unsullied sands
at the sea stained
      tide-mark ―

barnacles cling
to the pulse
of the tidal sway
where starfish hold on to
   slippery rocks ,..

being enough
to while away
just a little bit longer ―

to simply let it all be
and wholly wash out
in the water
waiting for the tide change,

to swallow whole
the rivers stagnant flow,
immersing
    the stars in swirling silence ―

in the unrestrained
    rhythm and the sea ...

Learning never ends
No matter how deep we dive
No one comprehends
A mystical path, everything's alive

No ordinary tends
Before has not abjured the hive
Exists a grave in each bend
Meat from the fat one may rive

Scarcely a trend
At the end, shall he then thrive
Time, no one spends
In the state, one in a million may arrive

illusions of innocence
smoke and mirrors
to hide the truth of ones true sinning
often left wondering from the start to ending
is it real or is it just pretending?
show me what i want
I'll want what you show
your illusion of innocence
is never needed though