Over time, I will show you what it means to be truly loved.
Over time, you will learn that happiness is not a destination, but a journey.
Over time, I will show you what it means to be adored.
Over time, you will learn that having scars is different from being broken.
Over time, I will show you that time is irrelevant, because love is indeed immortal.
Over time, you will learn to love yourself.
Over time, I will show you the true meaning of “Always and Forever”.
Over time you will learn to see in yourself the beauty that I see.
Over time, You and I will cease to exist, and there will only be Us.

Words have power.
Words as weapons.
Words as praise.
Words as motivation.

From the time they begin rolling around Inside my head,
Joining with others to form ideas
Until the moment they,
      Unbidden,
Force their way through me
And out onto the page,
I Love Words!

Once it stood
shining,
vibrant,
radiant,
its brilliance
beautifying the surroundings.

But now,
after a minutely short existence,
it is
changing,
aging,
dying.

Each tender, silky-white petal
turns to a rusty brown,
then silently breaks away
and falls
peacefully,
gently,
to the ground.

As I watch helplessly,
I frown,
knowing
that soon
it will all be
over.

A passage
Once
Engulfed by an invigorating
Sea of pitch
Now transformed
By the ceaseless streaming of sand
To a cavernous crypt
Harassed by light unwelcome
Dank from the runoff
Of stagnant pools
Of thoughts outworn.
Cracks and crevices obscure
A multitude of doors -
          Each with its own black sea
          All but one with their own dank caves.

I search my pockets for clues gathered along the way -
Reclusive bits of knowledge
That burrow deeper to avoid my grasp.
The slow ones I reach
And they unwillingly reveal their prize
Shrinking some doors, enlarging others.
My choice is more limited now
But still unclear.
This is the final choice
And I know I must choose carefully.
I muster all my courage and open a door
Instantly recognizing the fulfilling blackness
Of a thousand other doors I have chosen.
I step forward . . .
          And hope.

Don't scream "I love you" from the mountaintops,
competing with the babel and clamor of the world.
Whisper it to me in the still silence of the night,
making me strain to hear it,
blocking out the din of the universe to focus on the melody of your voice.
Let me feel it infuse the skin of my neck,
carried by the sweetness of your breath.

Sometimes,
Most of the time,
I am convinced
That you have
No idea,
No concept,
No glimmer of comprehension,
Of how much I love you.

But how could you?

No words could ever describe it;
No actions could ever demonstrate it;
No musical notes could ever sound as sweet;
No sunsets could ever appear as beautiful.

Yet, every day,
My mouth will speak;
My body will act;
My throat will sing;
My soul will paint the sky.

And Maybe,
Someday,
You will know.