I have become a man of habits.
Alarms wake me, coffee and toast.
Gym, morning texts,
messages to my monkey.
The crow knows no habits
Hunts and gathers, watches for prey
Does habit call for the roost of murders?
I know less than little.
I have become my habits.
Birds, birds, birds.
I'd do anything for her smile.
Whiskey breath and soft kisses are my
prayers offered to the night,
Feast solely on the moon and
you will not receive sustenance.
The past is certain, and so it becomes my future.
So too, is it certain, that I will relive my past mistakes?
Questions without answers.
The lord gave me the intellect to question,
but saw fit to withhold the courage needed to answer.
Providence only moves when you do.
I don't know that I believe in fate
Or angelic intervention
Yet you are in my life
Which is a miracle that grows
With the passing of each day
I would build an altar with which to worship you,
your beauty, your sensuality and your love.
You truly are an angel,
Such a remarkable woman.
You can never know the depth of my love for you as words and actions alone cannot capture it,
yet I will try.
I no longer understand the night.
How it thinly veils the corruption of our souls as our hearts bleed out all that was once innocent.
I am more at home in the light of early morning.
When the sun's warmth takes the bite off of Winter's parting kiss with all the promise of spring and summer's love brightly lit for all to see,
The shadows of yesterday forgotten at least for the moment.
I have loved,
I have loved,
And I have loved again
Yet every time I am astounded
At how much love there is within me
To give again.
I love you the most.
Damien Rice, beer, candles and a hot bath while you sleep.
in this absence of tomorrow
when only birds turn into flying
I frame the image of you
being here, being everywhere
words of thunder you were carrying
breathing in your fingers
my voice passed through you
resting in unknown spaces
I didn't look back
since each day is a child
I make with your shadow
my true self is a blank paper
spring will bring me flowers
your image is so real
between pillars of silence
you keep painting yourself with naked air
under untouched skin
I'm walking blinded in your language
wanting to coin my phrases
like "I can die without you"
or "I need you to love my shoulders"
this is all too strange
under the eyelids
when birds descend into singing
when tigers turn into grass
when your eyes turn into silence
and I disappear into words
Merry Christmas for me
Is you asleep
In someone else's bed
Yet beside me
As I sip wine
While the muscle relaxants kick in