You asked me                              
to write you
a love letter.
Instead I send
this poem
with unknown
intentions and
no expectations.

All I know is the simple thought
of your existence  
makes my cheeks go numb,
my thoughts jumble
I need to get more oxygen
to my brain,
my nerves never end
as my hands fumble,
my blood turns
to hot chocolate,
and my skin buzzing
like the trains
that pass by in the night when I wish
we could be together.

I lied before.
My hope is that
this is  not enough for you,
as it is not for me.
I also hope
this poem makes the corners
of your mouth
curl up
because that is
the least I can
do for you,
for all you have
done for me.
And if this poem
does not move
the muscles in your
face at all,
at least I have
the thought.

And maybe
I’ll never know
either way.
But for now,
it is my turn to ask
something of you:
How’s the weather?

Brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers
We bid you farewell for now
But we'll join you soon enough
You have accomplished so much

Footprints in the sand
Unable to be washed away
Impossible to replicate
Still you will never be forgotten

Names forged in stone
Medals pinned on your chest
Flag draped over your coffin
Laid to rest as the final shots ring out

Friends, uncles, aunts, and cousins
Family relatives of all kinds
Never have we seen stronger people
We salute all you upheld

Veterans, men and women of  war
Thank you for your sacrifices
Now on this day please
Rest in peace

Isn't cliche'?
What others do say.

They mean no harm,
but pound the alarm.

They say it out loud,
but not very proud.

They are behind the screen,
and can be very mean.

They take no shame,
but they are to blame.

They have no intent,
but they are the one bent.

They seem fake.
but please, give me a break.

In the bag of death he lay,
all zipped up, here to stay.

Upon his toe, there hangs a tag,
Dead on Arrival, lies on the slab.

Eyes closed shut, red everywhere.
Taken away,  nobody cares.

His pain is gone, he cries no more.
Silence is simple, down to the core.

Shot in the chest, wouldn't you know?
Another victim is gone named John Doe.

There are lightning bugs
in the killing jar.

Oh no, I dropped it.

All dark now.

Good bye.

I drew a picture,
so simple and clean.

I drew on it canvas,
so ugly and mean.

I drew with it crayon
with red and black.

I drew it with anger
with a knife in my back.

I drew from my mind
and things that you hid.

I drew from inside
and hole that you dig.

I drew a picture,
thought it was cute.

I drew it on canvas,
thought I killed you.