You said you loved me but I don't think you know what that means

What kind of love would leave me on the ground in your tshirt with teary eyes?
What kind of love would listen to twenty seven (literally twenty seven) voicemails of me crying and begging you to reply and not respond to a single one?
What kind of love would kiss me today and leave me tomorrow?
What kind of love would listen to my past without the intention of being in future?
What kind of love would just let go?

You said forever but I don't think you know what that means

Should you phone
When I'm home,
Don't assume I'm alone
Choosing epithets
For my stone.

If you phone
And hear a graon,
Don't assume I'm on the throne.
That's me practicing
Saxaphone.

When you phone
And hear me moan
In mellifulous polytone;
That's my slide
On a sweet trombone.

I'm the new age
Don Quixote,
Sitting in
My library.
I'm not dying,
I'm versifying,
Communing with
Life's mystery.

Cage of a leopard.
Not a water drop
Remain in the sky.

She's here gathering more of her things.
Keeps asking if I want this and that, and I'm sick
With the flu under a blanket on the sofa

Watching my muse quit, from
Deep inside my sweater hood.
Droplets of fever on my forehead,
And she can't keep from touching my face
Every time she walks by.
I turn my mouth against her palm and
Close my eyes. Knees buckle. She
Whimpers.

Something dying that
Tries to not
Want to
Live.

I wrote this for the boys and girls of the free world who fought/fight and die to keep us from harm.

Blue for the vast oceans crossed to fight to keep democracy free.  For your right to say your piece, to keep you safe from harm.

Green for the lands we'd never seen, places we didn't want to be but duty called and we did go to fight for you

Red for the blood, the blood we shed when the bomb or bullet found its mark. Yes, the blood we shed for you

The scent of the morning mist lingering in the air,
An aura filled with sweet dreams of a jasmine's breathtaking tide,
As it gently sways from you to me in perfect harmony.
I hear the wind as it brushes past the green of leaves,
The rustle of nature dallying like ourselves under the sycamore tree,
Whispering sweet nothing, and caressing me in its *****,
Softly sending me on a walk, chasing dreams and catching stars in my sleep.
Under the shadow of the former we stand as I pull you closer and within reach,
Usher in a new beginning of our love to last and our dreams to lead.
Knowing that your gaze dances slowly on my skin,
Under the sun, a hint of brown tan.
Watch you place your hand on my chest
And listen to the rhythm of a heart gone wild.
Wishes awaken, passion on fire,
As you kiss me softly, yet steal my breath,
As you sweep me off in urgent desire.
I can no longer hear, all noises subdued by the beating of my heart.
Under the shade of a sycamore tree,
You first showed me what it feels to be in love
And forget all the pain and misery.