I don’t know where he is
or what he’s doing
or who he’s with
I don’t know anything
I’m just
alone

I write my love letters
to you
on paper boats
sail them to you
yet when you receive it
you say there are no words
when I have
turned the ocean blue

I don't believe in soul mates
What I do believe in
Is people that connect
On some deeper level
Immediately upon acquaintance
And not meaning you agree
On where to eat for dinner
But the connection where your heart
Seems to slip out
Of your rib cage
Because it's found a home
Outside of your chest.

All I am is adventures of a traveler
Concentrated till saturation, and blind curiosity
Crushes my attention span to a blink
It's too cornered in my clothes, can you lend me your wisdom?

Flower filled with pink
Silently standing tall
Cold water runs in vase
Holding hues so vibrant
Molding new leaves
Precious flower in
My yard

I'm standing close by a river of rhyme,
where words cascade, in endless pantomime,
each line is a ripple, on the rugose water's crest,
but the chaotic current seems a randomized mess.

I see waves of words riding swells of sonnet,
into concrete verse, only to crash upon it.
There are dark plaintive whirlpools of elegy
and swirling haikus kissing off sharp envoi.

This river of rhyme could wash me away,
with its desperate currents of poetic dismay.
Its sensual verses can become a toxic wine,
oh, God, don’t let me drown in the river of rhyme.

It costs nothing to smile
but a kind heart.
It costs nothing to pull someone up ,
when he is down
but a reaching hand.
It costs nothing to share the love
you have inside
to see one as they are
as we are.
Effortless!
Warm embrace.



Shell ✨🐚