How do I love thee?
I love thee by the breath,
the height,
the lenght your soul can ever reach,

I love thee purely
As christ love humanity unto death.

I love thee,
from the sunset to the candle light at night unto the dreamy land
& beyond,
every second of the day
you are in my heart.

I love thee from tears to smile
& everything inbetween,

I love the every day of my life
until the day I breath my last,
may that day never be,

I love thee
with a love that is more than love,

how I wish I could speak in word
of feathered certainty,

for as love itself is eternal
So do I love thee,
beyond space and time.

For love is the voice of God
love is me and you,

If this feeling and words be err,
then no man ever loved,
and love never be.

I’m stuck between impatience and time moving too fast.
If only certain moments could hold off and last,
Yet let me be the first to set the record straight.
I know that, in the end, it will all be worth the wait.
I’m not here because I want to relive the past.
While times have been perfect, the idea is too vast:
To stay where you are, red, and not look for what’s ahead.
However, why is the future an idea i’m urged to dread?
While this time is exciting, and often inviting,
I see the circumstance filled with crying and spiting.
No, I’m not scared, or maybe I was.
I’ve learned that I can’t live that way, only because
I’ll suffer that way in this current time I’m in,
And living right now is already hard enough to begin.
I’m not here to sulk, i’m not here to brag.
I’m just impatiently enduring the drag
Of time, of now, wanting it to slow to yellow,
While I’m eager, insisting on life’s green light, “go.”
Time, a constant thing, still looks me in the face
To say, “you think you know it all, but I will set the pace”.
No matter the task, the toll, the race, I’m in it for the ride.
Meanwhile, I’ll tell my impatient indecisiveness that it’ll have to subside.
Maybe time is like traffic. “Do I gas it, or hit the breaks?”
Either way, I’m afraid of collisions, so that’s a risk I just won’t take.

To be the poet is really not that much

To be the inspiration
That takes a certain touch.  

I struggle with the words to capture that time. Alone with the vision of you so sublime.

The worse part of  having a muse.
Is that to them you are of no use.

If anyone cared this much about you to focus their day on all that you do.

You would feel so happy, its what you want most . But your eyes are blind to this simple host.

You search so long for someone to hold you dear all the while I'am right here.

My words written here you'll likely never see and the love that I felt will be felt but by me.