I see you across the room with your friends.
And I wonder when this will end.
The smile you use, the kindness you have.
The laugh you have, the love you give.
It makes me smile think how perfect you and I could be.
You are there when I need you and I will be there or you to.
But it kills me that I can't say that I love you.
i will never know the softness of your lips or the warmth of your body. But I know the strength in your arms when you pull me into a friend hug. But that's all it is. Just a friend hug. You will never know that I love you because I might never tell you.
Your eyes are cluttered by someone else that even you have no chance with. Yes you to have dated but she is with another man now.
I don't know how you look at her the way you look at her. I wish you would though. Look at me the way you look at her.
Can’t you see that I am right here waiting for you? And that I need you in my life.
But now it's just a blur because you don't see things the way I do.
I know we have a connection you have felt it to. But you refuse to see it because you are so in love with someone that is not for you.
We laugh, we share and we love.
So I laugh a little thinking how stupid it would be that you ended up with the wrong person other than me.
My heart still remains for you and no other.
You know we share love for each other but you don't see it.
So I will stay the same and love you as much as I can. Hoping that one day you will see that i am the one you need and love. I just hope it won't be too late when you do realize.
So go about your day with your friends. But I will be in your shadows of your love with every step of the day.

They think my nerves are cold
steel; they call me unnn-real, like
I'm a big deal; they think I'm all
fight, that I've gained deeper in-
sight. Like I'm alright. Like I don't
cry. And all I did was not die.

Summer, take the rain away.
Summer, take the pain away.
Winter froze my flowering heart,
Teach it how to bloom today.

- p. winter

Titles make me weird
I mean how do you word what your words are trying to explain
It’s confusing see words just flow with me I don’t think I just write and type until I look at the screen and I stare and ponder I just let my hands write that which they choose  whenever my eyes red and full take in my soul when my body’s in harmony because I’m slightly too intoxicated but it’s fine, because it’s making me feel alive, listening too old acoustic songs that make you feel like your flying and that’s where I write, I write when I’m in the deepest cave at the bottom of the endless sea, where there is little oxygen or room to breathe, my soul will break through the rock and let me float away through and across where no human has gone before, that’s where I see my minds creations is where my heart belongs it’s where my soul breaths it’s my home eternal and true
But let it not be said that my perfect home no matter how old my soul seems to be, is with you with your arms around me,
They are my ultimate perfections,
You were
No are
The most important thing to me
And that’s where my heart truly beats
Where my soul can break
It’s final resting place
I’ll lay it all on you if you just once promise me forever and always
I will genuinely vow
Because if you genuinely feel that way I think I’d know
So I think in time we could
Because right now I love you more than words can describe

The ink is pitch black
And the fountain pen was white
Summoned a poem.

Without eyes there'd be no color
Without skin no soft sands
Without senses life seems duller
No hardness of rocks without our hands

Without tongues there'd be no spices
No aromas without our nose
But as we age and left to our devices
What's taken for granted is forgotten as we grow

From the deaf who first hear the song birds
To the blind who see the sunrise
For the first time that they hear words
Tears flow down awakened blind eyes

We evoke senses with our beings
And though these senses we've had since birth
From those who wish to hear and see things
Never forget how much they're worth

The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:

A Certain Place

What happens in heaven?
Will I sit on a cloud?
Is walking or talking
Or jumping allowed?

Will I be on my own
Or with some of my friends?
Does it go on for ever
Or eventually end?

What happens in heaven?
Will I play a harp's strings?
I can't play piano
I can't even sing.

Who chooses the music
That angels inspire?
Who does the auditions
For the heavenly choir?

What happens in heaven?
Are the streets paved with gold?
Is it crowded with people
Who're incredibly old?

Will I know who I am?
Will I know what I'm called?
If I pinch myself hard
Will I feel it at all?

What happens in heaven?
Do I go through a gate?
What if I get myself lost
Or turn up too late?

Is my name on a list?
Is the gatekeeper nice?
Can you sneak in for nothing
Or is there a price?