There was the time before you. When I was free in my endeavor's.

Then the time during you. When everything became unfathomable. And I  wanted to spend every waking moment with you.

Then there was the time after you. When? It does not matter, because you are gone.

And I am done.

You smell like pure warmth, sweet and heady, like a muggy summer night just after a heavy rainfall; earthy. A wet cedar, woody scent with an undertone of citrus. You smell of home, a sheltered blanket of safety.

Tell me what you want me to say? Tell me what you want me to be. I'll play pretend. If it gets you looking at me again.

Her body only existed where he touched her.
Twisting and writhing to his hands upon her flesh.
The rest of her evaporated into smoke.
             Dispersing into the nights air from a masterstroke

I focus on the end.
The only thing which matters.
A path for my feet to walk upon.
The road of stains and mistakes,  
inky foot prints left in my wake.

I didn't start existing to you, until a moment ago when you started reading the words I am writing.
A random person behind the poetry lines.
A thought turned into an idea to read.
I don't know you.
and you don't know me.
but for a moment we exist together with letters and words scrolling through a white paper occurrence.

I give the meaning, and you illuminate the reason.
A give and take kind of semblance of a relationship.

I'll never meet you face to face, nor will I ever feel your hand in my own.
But for a moment we existed together in harmony.

and it was wonderful!

This feels so wrong.
Living on a respirator,
healing from love's infection.

I use to have a pulse,
right before the insanity struck.

Thump, thump, my heart sung.
Finding comfort in my own breathing.

Then I saw you...
heard you.
felt you...
and I breathed you in.

My heart skipped in it's beat.
And my breath was gone.

Wrong- is it wrong?
It feels wrong.
Beyond all reason,
I have fallen in love with you.
And I know that
your taste is such a thing-
Such a thing I'd die for...

You're all I've ever wanted.
Now you're all gone.
Thieving my breath
and stealing off into the night.

Even though I love you,
you couldn't wait to leave me.
So, I'll whisper with my last breath,
about how much I miss you.

I can't help but close my eyes
and lay my body back down.
Letting the machines keep me alive.
Till the day you'll be back
to breathe life into me.

I was five when I asked my mother,
while holding a box of crayons,
"What color is me?"
She smiled and explained I was the color yellow;
radiant and life giving.

I grew, and grew, and when I was ten I asked my mother again,
"What color am I?"
She leaned really close.
Looking me up and than down.
"Blue," she spoke.
"The color of the skies and sea's.
Vast in wisdom and deep with honesty."

When I was fifteen
and started to come into myself,
I asked my mother again,
"What color am I this day?"
She looked at me, reading me as if I was  book.
"Red. You are the color red.
Unshakable with passion but uncertain in your strength."  

The year I turned twenty, my life was barely beginning.
I was filled with such trepidation about moving away from my family.
I asked my mother, standing in the threshold of our home,
"What color am I now?"

My mother paused in her answer,
her eyes seeing something I never would or could.
A smile spread on her tired face,

"My darling little girl,"

She spoke touching my cheeks.

"You are the color of the sun, yellow; radiant and life giving.

You are the color of the skies and sea's, blue; vast in wisdom and deep with honesty.

You are the color red; unshakable with passion, and most certain in your strength.

My bright and shining daughter,
you are a rainbow for all to see.

Forced to sit on idle hands,
       watching as the snake slips
                    belly first inside your home.
                                  Into his place, his life, your wife.


Oh, what a life he's stolen.

Dream as if you will live forever;
endeavor to rise from the ashes.

Live as if you'll die tomorrow;
devise a plan because there will be
an invariable end.

Tomorrow might rise...
and hell, the world will still be turning,
but tomorrow might not come...
and today was all I had.

I knew I tried my best
and dreamed as if I'd live forever.
and lived as if I'd die tomorrow.

"I could actually, win," I said to myself.

Then reality hit me in the face.

And I lost, before I could even try.

I'll remember you as you were.
Innocent; out against the bluest of blue.
Where the sky hangs low,
on the veil of green lands.

I'll think of you.
From time to time.
With a soft thought,
and a gentle smile.

A fond memory,
To get me through
this storm.

However,
I'd cut off my own hand,
before I ever reach for you again.

For you are the thorns
on a red, red rose.
The gleaming needle waiting
to be threaded.
The nefarious laced poison
dipped in candy.

I wouldn't dare reach for you.
Because the pain may fade,
But the scars you left,
Will always be the same.

It wasn't until her back was turned,  she realized her grave mistake. His knife slipped in silently between her ribs. With little effort it pierced her heart. The shock and shame. The ridicule, it was all the same.

She died knowing where to lay the blame.

Like a white sheep she bleats for her Shepard.

There were days where I'd crawled miles on hands and knees.
Every agonizing inch with only thoughts of finally resting at your side.

There were weeks where I'd close my eyes,
because the damage around me was to horrifying to witness.
My vision blurred from bleary kisses.
The caress of a backhanded comment.

There were months, and months where I held my words at bay;
keeping all my worries and doubts inside my mouth.
A devastating storm brewing just off shore on the tip of my tongue.

There were years where I would cry, begging for some sort of validity.
A single conformation from your lips.
I was in fact being heard over my silent screaming.

I tired of this endless journey.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
Years of yearning.

Dredging through trenches on fire.
This tiresome struggle to inhale a single smokeless breath.

I drag myself on; towards the end and far beyond.
A clear blue sky waiting for my upheaval.
The air clean with a heavenly scent of freedom and home.

Some people are lost in the fire but some are built up within the infernal storm.

Black eyes,
Deep and endless.
Shines a light,
Bright and timeless.

A kind smile,
On a gnarled face.
Handsome in his
own way.

Honesty.
A lost virtue,
In this wasteland
We call home.

Smoke drifts
from a parted mouth.
Escapes into the
nothingness of the
green-tinged sky.

"Moments like these,
I know all that karma
stuff is all bull."

Those are your words.
Not mine.

"Because no one like me,
should be this lucky."

There is no one like you.

A man out of time,
in stolen red duds.
tricorn hat tipped
to the side.

That smirk,
that damnable,
smirk, plastered,
forever to your smug mug.

Your ruddy hand
reaches back.
Open palmed
full of scars.
To grasp my mine.
Much smoother skin.

"Come on love,"
you say,
with your voice
full of gravel.

*"Lets get this freak show
on the road."

The lady in white turns and my gaze runs over her, I was taken aback—

This mysterious woman was like the missing puzzle piece of the black and white picture lain out in a lack of color. She is a classic beauty. Her face has all the sharp angles and the perfect pout of her red up-turned mouth, but it was her eyes which captured me.

They are actually… Actually, the color of a persimmon fruit and like a persimmon fruit; which is very flavorful if eaten at the right time of year but very astringent if eaten wrongly. This woman’s redden eyes churn with a sweet taffy, a chaotic intent bubbling below.

The sound of her mystical voice drifts towards me like glass wrap in sensual silk, poised to strike but yet a feminine edge to it.

"Hello..."

... My phone to death...

Now I know.

Trust falling on a daggers edge.
Will leave a deeper wound,
when you reach the end.

You could never feel my story.
Every word written in between the lines.
Scrawled in the deepest shades of my morality.

I'll hand you a box, full of my darkness.

It'll be years before you realize, this was a gift, to understand my story.

My muscles ache from the emotional burdens you constantly place on my shoulders.

My bones creak from the additional weight, I'm barley able to carry.

I drag my feet along in the dirt.
My knees, weak and trembling from the great effort of not falling face-first to the ground.  

Instead, I carry on.
Walking with my head held high.
Far from the murky dirt, below my feet.

I may ache and creak from the strain.
But I'll be ****** if I'll crumble under your backward ideology.

My fingers laced a crown,
as you carried me into the lapping water.
I drew a breath...

And you tucked me into death's bed.
Water filled my lungs
with a slip of your invasive tongue.
--A goodbye kiss.

You left me there.
Slipping down into the icy waves.
Beneath the rising water.

My breath gone as you dissolved from my bubbly view.

By fates hands she will arise from the seed,
with the joining of the seven.
A cause is the effect.
An effect will be the cause.
Sow the seed; to reap the fruit.
Alpha unbeknownst to the omega.
It will all begin, within the ending.

For all the poems
written on the subject
of unrequited love.
There are far too few
discussed on
being the desire
of the affection.

A difficult topic
to build a
foundation on.
Considering,
you're suffocating in
debilitating silence.
How could I know
if the words were
never spoken?

Like counting birds
against the blaring sun,
its almost
an impossible feat
to accomplish
battling a massive
lack of knowledge.

--and with the
cataclysm raining
down on your shoulders.
Do you feel cold
and lost in desperation?
A silent hope built up
into a concealed bonfire.

Standing alone.
Burning alone.
Impossibly alone.

I didn't know.
The words never
left your tongue.

No promises made
No catharsis expressed.
Only lustful secret
clutched to your chest.

Sometimes solutions
are not as simple as
they seem.
If only I'd known,
If only I'd been told
long ago;
then maybe
this wretched ending
could have been
something beautiful
instead
of a juvenile mess...

I've taken special precaution to protect myself.
Meaning, I don't give my email to people I do not know.
My phone number is clutched to my chest.
Even my real name is never disclosed.

I live by pseudonym.
Pandarra,
Pandakin
or simply just Panda.
And'
If that's not to your liking.
Try;
Vearena,
Vearona
or even Vea.
I have lots of names,
all of them a mouthful
as they roll off your tongue.

I live with precautions,
to keep people at bay.
Too many idiots and pervert
now-a-days.
But that's not the worst,
heathens and **** dwell
as well.
People who are working the angles
to make a quick buck or two
off the naive and the unknowing.

So learn from me well;
live with precautions.
Keep people at arms length,
because then, and only then,
can they not
sink their teeth in.