T-The gift of life is oft stolen away
H-Horrid weaponry does the affray
E-Endlessly casualties will parlay

G-Gleaming soldiers eyes gone for rest
I-In unforgiving battles so harsh of test
F-Fighting at a land's utmost behest
T-Terrible the deadly toll is to attest

O-Over and over munitions have terminated
F-Flagrantly thieving any quietude generated

L-Loved sons of kinfolk seen to weep
I-Infinite this sadness ever so deep
F-From a beautiful benefit the cost steep
E-Extinguished by war's insane keep

When people ask me about my first love,
I remember the smell of melted crayons.
Not your smile, your golden skin, or the way your face would wrinkle in deep thought.
But about the carelessness of a child in your backseat,
And how with help from the sun,
your car was forever perfumed by a melted, purple Crayola.
I grew to love this scent.
It's an odd thing to even say aloud now.
However, it's permanently imprinted in my mind.
Over summers spent in your car and nights staring into your eyes,
I grew infatuated with this waxy, sweet aroma that filled the air between us.
It became your cologne that stayed with my clothes while you were away,
My comfort when you were near.
It was never sickening or invasive,
But desired and wanted.
So when people ask me about my first love,
I tell them about this boy who always smelled of crayons and how much I miss him.

i used to have butterflies,
now i dont.
i now have hummingbirds,
since they flap quicker.

her kindness, her love,
has begun to show its mark.
the roots have grown in my heart,
millions of hummingbirds, when i see her.

who knew? that there can also be hummingbirds?
they bundle the most, when she provides her kindest words.