Open to the mesmerizing sight of love, I would fervently pursue the captivating idea all on my own, like a lone wolf relentlessly hunting down its prey. With a predatory grace, I would skillfully stalk you, my innocent deer,—
In this unspoken forest of the night's serenade, where the moonlight casts ethereal shadows upon the earth, I find myself compelled to howl at the songs of their mysterious silhouettes. With an uncontainable excitement building within me, I carry a devilish grin that tugs at the corners of my lips, anticipating the moment when I can unleash a torrent of words, forming a sentence that will not only capture your attention but also leave an indelible impression on your soul.

My words, like white-water rapids crashing against the rocks, will bite down on your ear with a playful yet alluring intensity. They will weave sentences that touch the deepest recesses of your mind, evoking emotions that you never knew existed within you. Like a gentle caress that ignites a fire, my words will tickle your pleasure, awakening desires that have long been dormant.

With every beat of my heart, I am driven to explore the uncharted territories of love with you. Together, we will delve into the depths of passion, traversing treacherous landscapes of vulnerability and trust. Your heart will become my sanctuary, a place where our love can flourish and grow, protected by the fierce and unwavering loyalty of a wolf...
your gate wolf, forever vigilant in protecting the sanctity of our shared connection.

I saw Heaven hanging over my head like a chandelier, it's
angels were swimming in the light, whispering sweet hymns,—
in a kaleidoscope filled with broken dreams.
The gates fell open like a strand of hair, trumpets were blaring for kings, with thrones like rocking chairs, of my ancestors and their heirs. On earth, I had cattle trodding around my heart to pay for love; as dowry couldn't pay enough for who I once loved.
I drank the tears of Heaven's rains, to tie my tithes wrapped
around my neck; waiting for their fortunes reigns.

I kissed an angel that melted my lips, and had suckled on the ******* of mother nature, who fed me milk and honey to keep me alive. I danced around the edge of an end, where life begins once again. My toes felt cold as a tear drop lost in snow,— my ears were ringing like the church carillon, calling me to repent.
And from the stained glass window frames, it all immediately painted out my pain.

I thought of you, just before I took my last breath, begging the favours from the mistress of Death. I felt like a flower in your hand; each petal being picked away, asking the question of,
"does she love me or love me not." I thought of being holy enough to fit in your heart, but I was as holey as the holes in my socks. My prayers all stunk of the lie behind them all. I looked into your eyes to see heaven inside, as I was living in the world.
I bit on time to have it for seconds, and served a dish of revenge only in my heart,— I was taught it will always be a cold meal; so
I'd use my spark of love to keep it warm. I shared stories with
the world, told my biggest secrets to the sky, and left
breadcrumbs to them, in every word of my poems.

Still...in the chaos of my mind, lied a still river flowing with worth. Drowning myself in your eyes, as your every tear was the inspiration of what became our story. But I know in the end, our love will just be another person's story...

When we were young, sipping on cherry lip kisses,
with a blush of your tears in the afternoon
Simplistic conversation between as two, to seem
casual around your friends. Worshiping our music
on these random rock playlists, while I spoke of your
name, as if it were Queen,— giving you a reason to rule.
Bathroom stains of blood dripping down the black drain,
concrete smiles, drinking chlorine out of broken glasses
Cutting at our smiles; marking each other with bites
on our necks.

Boys with ripped jeans by their pockets; we couldn't
carry a lot of our dreams. Camouflage wallets filled
with an army of our last coins just to cover a ride back home.
Living on a small income, hoping for a good outcome,
and to not baby the night for each other without ***.
But every girl is smiling for a money shot, knowing they
could never afford a real ******. And the boys trying to protect
desires, unfortunately learning how to wear condoms watching ****.

I still remember when I drove ahead of the road, just to
get some head. Blowing away my brain with a few lines of blow.
Trying to find my dreams with a bottle full of sleeping pills,
resting my worries on a torn out mattress, in a city with no area
code. I didn't have much people to call on, whenever my bipolar
started to show; when you sold yourself short on your happiness on
some cheap night thrills.

Sunday blues became the sobering messages while you're
hungover, burning on a bush that never seems to burn over.
Never owning a bark to the trees we've smoked,— still I remember
the good stuff could be bought for just a buck. Still trying your
luck at popping a girls box like popcorn; hoping we can make a
movie with the snack. Still if I even had the skill to blow out her
back, my attachment issues will always have me coming back.

I could never apologise for my youth, till I die young.
But as my eyes live till forever, being forever young would be a
death sentence to me. Serving time on the words we all loved
to say of that stupid quote: "you only live once"

      _...yeah right.

I am a raindrop, born in the clouds. My existence, a fleeting dance between the ethereal and the tangible. I join my siblings, millions of others, in a journey that seems both endless and predestined. We tumble, we spin, we collide, and yet there is a strange sense of harmony to it all. As if we are part of something greater than ourselves, something that transcends the physical world.

And then, finally, we reach the edge of the world. The vast, endless expanse that stretches out before us. We plummet, feeling the weight of gravity pulling us down, down, down. The wind rushes past us, tearing at our tiny forms, yet somehow it also carries us forward. It whispers secrets of the world below, of the life that awaits us in the depths.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, my journey ends. I strike the surface of the water with a soft splash, disappearing beneath the surface. I am no longer a raindrop, but a part of something else now. I am a leaf in the still waters of a pond.

The world around me is a study in contrasts. Above, the sky stretches out in shades of blue, dotted with clouds that occasionally drift past, casting shadows over the water. Below, a carpet of greenery sways gently in the breeze, hinting at a hidden world teeming with life. I drift lazily, carried by the currents, my only concern being to stay afloat and avoid being swept away.

Drifting gracefully on the serene surface of a tranquil pond, I exist as a leaf with no defined purpose, no specific path to follow, and no inner musings. Contentedly, I meander aimlessly, embracing the tranquility that envelops these undisturbed waters. As a leaf, I find solace in simply being, surrendering to the gentle currents that guide my journey.

An investor buys an expensive watch to stay ahead of time. While the rest, will buy it to look like they have all the time in the world. We'll hold onto to the past, to appear we can hold time in our hand; wrapping your arm in the tune of your own success, both for the applauds of a band. Still if money does talk, there'll be a disconnect holding money to your ear. Trying to seem like you talk business, but in the efforts of a sold out career. The taste of a risk, is the blood your poured out of your wrist,— covering up those scars with a time piece. Still time never gives me any real peace, for a piece of thought, is me always wondering what time is.

Murderers killing the itch of time, scratching at the wait of doing something productive at every inch. The weight of robbers stealing time, will be carried away by the imaginary fortunes they think they have, just like the rich. I know you can't really scratch that painful itch by being rich, but it does help me afford the cream to soothe that feeling of a pinch. To not pinch a penny, over thinking how to save your self. When every penny for a thought, is thinking about how you can increase your wealth. As time is money; money only comes in due time, I might have as well bought an expensive watch, to keep watch on this money of mine.

...Still money will never be enough, as there will never be enough time.

Put away your glass eye, and you'll see just how delicate you truly are. Your mind may be sharp, but please, don't gaze
upon my chest and leave me with another scar.
Allow me to demonstrate the foolishness of being madly
in love, when you constantly say, "you run miles on my mind,"
but truthfully I need you to first find that path.

As we compare ourselves to the past, time refuses to wait
for us. We can't spend too much time second-guessing,
as everything comes to pass, and even when I feel irritable,
it all falls so short in my very face.
But hey, life is too tall, and I can't afford to fall so quickly from grace. Still, even when I express my gratitude, it seems to
be the only most answered prayer. Still I pray to protect you from the preying eyes of the world, like the many wolves lurking in the shadows. Every man has an instinct to hunt, but I could never sense their intentions with my own cold nose.

Some days, I yearn to touch your skin as gently as I touch
the sky, always hopeful for tomorrow.
I want to witness every petal of tears that fall from your eyes, reminding me that you are my precious flower. I must protect and guard, while leading with the energy of a man who is still learning, but also in charge.

Yet, life as I know it feels like a stubborn plug in the wall, refusing to give in even when I'm on the verge of burning out. Unlike an angry dog, I may drool, but it's not a pretty sight
at all. Beautiful thoughts only seem to exist in the corners of darkness. Perhaps a single kiss from you will ignite a spark of love, even if it only comes in fleeting sparkles.

Bur don't indulge in my darkness, for the void is filled with nothingness that will make you starve.
But let me gather the courage to say, "I like you," before
I can muster the strength to call you my love.
But then again, what is love: an awkward word, one that carries a multitude of emotions and sensations that delicately tickle underneath the surface of our skin. It can be a rollercoaster
of feelings, sometimes even getting on our nerves. Picture love
as an unlikely image, framed within the memories of one being so, so afraid to talk to girls.

Imagination, on the other hand, is a powerful faculty of the mind. It is an untamed force that can conjure up vivid and extraordinary scenarios, but it can also be harnessed and controlled by a trained mind. Love, however, is a different story. It is wild, unpredictable, and capable of leading us off track when our feelings can no longer hide.

Love is like a tempestuous storm, capable of stirring our hearts passionately and altering the courses of our lives. It knows no boundaries and can ignite an intense and overpowering flame within us. But playing with your match won't be so wise; playing with fires. Love can make us feel vulnerable and exposed,
as if the mere thought of interacting with the opposite ***
could send us spiraling into a spiral of anxiety and self-doubt.
Pricking at my heart, while I go around picking up another rose.

Still when it comes to true love, I never have enough words...
so perhaps that justifies me to say I'm in love,— being lost
for words. Or course that goes against the laws; if love ever
had them at all.
You could live by forever, but truthfully forever will always
be so far away,— so we'd just have this moment where we stay.
And one day, someday or even a Monday, love won't lack
the passion, and making me feel so mundane. But I'll only
know when I fall in love one day.

When your skin is darker than your past, you'll find
yourself instinctively seeking shade, avoiding the scorching
rays of the sun that seem to tarnish its complexion.
Its once radiant appearance now tinged with the remnants
of the flames, forever leaving a mark.
You may feel that all your imperfections persist, yearning
to be acknowledged and embraced, yet often remaining
unnoticed by the oblivious eyes of the world.
You, my dear, have become a surreal spectacle, captivating
the gaze of many with your unique blend of beauty and vulnerability.

In this collective exchange of glances, you discover
a remarkable unity, a deep connection that transcends
mere superficiality. It is as if each shared look weaves
together the threads of our lives, binding us in a profound
state of matrimony, where understanding and acceptance intertwine.

As we stand together, lost in the enigmatic origins of life,
it becomes apparent that your skin holds a story, an
uninterrupted lineage that stretches back through time.
It is a tapestry of ancestral struggles and triumphs, a testament
to resilience and fortitude. And like the night that envelops
the world, your dusky guardian complexion bears witness
to the strength and beauty that lies within.

But let us not be judged solely by what meets the eye.
Peel back this outer layer, delve deeper into who we truly are,
and you will discover hearts that beat with the same
tenderness, dreams that flourish within the obscure depths of
our souls. Don't let the label of "African child,"
confine us to a predetermined destiny; instead, let it be
a celebration of our heritage, a recognition of the richness
and diversity that flows through our veins.

So, my dear, as we navigate our way through this complex
and ever-changing world, let your skin be a canvas,
not only for the painted white of eyes that might cast
judgments, but for the genuine smiles that radiate from within.
Embrace your darkness, your unique hue, and let it stand
as a testament to the vibrant spirit that resides in the
depths of your being.