seeing you in the front row
couldn't help but to stare

saw a weird reflection in you
but you had too much of a glare

thinking of makin' a move
then you left without a clue

thought it was just a vacation
was fooled by my own imagination

outta my mind,
saw you online

you never posted nothing
but always seen mine

could this be any more,
or I am just paranoid?

In the light from the screen,
I saw your silhouette

deeply immersed on what's written,
with hair slipped hanging on your face

saw light shining those little vines,
that twisted like a ripe vine

face glimmering by that soft light,
glowing like a kindle in a firelight

your swinging chair produced a sound,
like a nightingale on a winter dusk

and fingers tapping those little keys,
whose clicking filled the air around

and as I inhaled them,
I felt resurrected.

you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.

Childlike in wonder and awe
I stare at the stars above.
Wondering what's out there,
Possibly staring back.

I make a wish as a star shoots by
Hoping that it’ll come true.
But clouds roll in and changes the view
To something I don’t recognize.

sometimes i watch the stars cry,
i watch the clouds turn gray,
and the sun to blue.
sometimes i watch the world run cold.
the rivers run dry,
the oceans waves level out,
the lakes stop rippling.
the world stops, and it breaks my heart.

i hate seeing you in pain.

When the waves peaked
the sunlight broke
through their belly,
filling the undertow
with stained glass,
blues, and greens.
At the foot of
something holy,
you felt like a child.
If you still
spoke to a God
you would have
done it then.
Instead, you scribbled
short prose
onto wrinkled
receipt paper,
released them
into the ebb.
You thought,
this sadness,
like the ocean,
belongs to all of us now.

I watch the daylight as it creeps across my wall,
it moves slowly, like a dying animal that
wants to live as badly as it has already wished to disappear.

I am bad impersonation of the person I was the day before;
like playing telephone with my body, or becoming a photocopy,
my true self has already begun wane.