I want to write poetry
like a confession that I’m bleeding
like blood that I’m crying
like a heart’s cry that I’m singing
like it’s a love song that I’m feeling
like it’s a feeling that I’m fighting
like it’s a fight I’m welcoming
like it’s a welcome I’m inviting
like it’s an invite I’m opening
like I’m open and amazing
I want to write amazing poetry
like I’m reading some famous poet
and that poet in me

You never told me your name
yet your smile said it all
you signed me your number
gestured a phone for me to call
I look around for pen and paper
I find neither anywhere
locked in memory, loud and clear
in my head I stored you there
But by the time I made it home
my sharpness wasn’t as it were
within the charging of my phone
the numbers began to blur
I rang the wrong number
and dialled a different voice
just another unfamiliar stranger
I hung up, I had no choice
I tried so hard to remember
combining captures of what you said
piecing a puzzle for a clue
picturing it all in my head
how the stars had failed me
how in love I am cursed
the more I tried to remember
the more I made it worse
and now you’re probably wondering
why I never did call
you have no idea how I’m dying
my memory, your smile and all

I’m selling my heart
for what price do you think?
what money cannot buy
just over a drink
nor gold can even try
take me drunk while I blink
cash for a promise of a lie
with a smile and a wink
but a trade of hearts
and you may have deal
you can’t beat a better bargain
so let’s shake, It’s a steal

Tonight
I will not be sleeping
till I write the words
that are keeping
me awake

Tonight
I’ll make the most
of a late night evening
and by the morning
waiting
for you to wake

Tonight
Who’d have thought
I’ll be weeping
while you’re dreaming
words too late

Tonight
while gone
I keep writing
alone and grieving
words I wish I wrote
and now reaping
your fate

Frankie said, “Jane’s okay”
and Jane,…well
she never really liked
Frankie’s way,
Yet his charm and that tattoo
of ‘Mom’ on his arm
made him seem like a nice boy

You see…
he never won her heart
just stole her mind
“In just a matter of time”
he’d brag, “She’ll be mine”
no sooner she was won
with a ring fit for her thumb
Frankie found himself a new toy

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and there fell a poem
into my head
like a song…

“One day you will ask me
which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine
and you will walk away
not knowing
that you are my life.”

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and my dreams were filled
in my heart was a song
a longing so sweet
a desire too strong
till the museum guard came
and moved me along