I'm not writing anymore
As much as I'm
Watching in helpless wonder
As the words
Fall out from my fingertips
As my heart flys
Off towards the songs
Of her voice
And I find myself
Hypnotized by her picture
Framing her perfect
Endless Ocean Eyes
And would the effect have beeen the same
Had we meet
After one too many
Or spilled each others coffees
In a crowded café
If I held her hand on a late night walk
Instead of this longing
To know her touch
Instead of dreaming of what could be
If not for the ocean
And time
And distance
Would I have been too shy
To say word
Had she danced or chanced
Before me...
I know
I would have froze
And quitely walked away
Never to say a thing
But maybe one day
Write of the regret
For the dream that I let
Waltz right past
And never took the chance...
I cannot explain
Or dare question fate
Of the why
All I can do is watch
As the words fall out
And helplessly stare
At her eyes
Perfect in their frame
Its easier to write poems than to send a simple message... I'm more of a coward and a fraud than an artist. Dam, I think that's the fraud police at my door... don't worry they'll never take me alive (I'm already dead)