Promises were made
Like many before and after
To me they were real
They screamed
Vows tied in love
Tears of what I could not say
Bounded to me till I washed them away
For you to be cleaned so fast
Aragent of me to still be drenched in a vow and a promise
How often the echos of how things are supposed to be
What things are ment to be lies
Promises are just flowers to wilt I am told
So is everything I am told
Even as I stand still
Appreciate the moments so slow
Happyness fills me
To grab on is difficult
Especially when I am told I wilt and decay
Love to the words forgoten
Walking through a field of flowers breathing blue

A image to chase
Is that what you seek
Being someone in the distance
What do I say besides yelling names

I choose to continue to walk though
I hope you best luck over there
Wherever your purpose is
It is a good night

How many are in the sky?
Rotating and writing poems.
Staring at there forms
    and
placements. Drenched in the
   Dark.
Even when out of sight.
Dreams of faraway tales.
A strong love. To them, words are written.

Sister let us go
The clouds are slowly coming down
   She says: I hear that they are running from death.

I just wanted to be around
Then I noticed
I just wanted to talk
Then you noticed
nothing wrong
       yet
we didn't notice it was nice.

The last two days became one.
So the day before yesterday’s tomorrow is today.
          The moment and phrase can stay.
                             .Marked.

It is, and I say.
I was caught off guard.
        Only happy.
Might be a lie but you won't hear me say other wise.
                                                           Thank you.