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If home is
where the
heart is,
then why
do I feel
so misplaced
when I walk
through the
front door?
Sick of this feeling
what a sight,
we see,
with eyes, wide open
we love someone;
from the place of truth,
in our hearts.

it is, beauty incomparable,
enigmatic, eccentric,
sometimes unbearable.

it is, a labyrinth unravelled,
a road yet travelled,
a sojourn for sighing soul.

it is, awe inspiring,
death, defying hope.

it is, kindness and patience,
a forbearing of ill will.

it is, awkward and
and the revealing
of family secrets.

it is, showing up,
showing off,
awesome and terrible.
and hell's bell's,
ringing out the doomed
of carefree days
and liver
destroying nights.

it is, heaven,
when, you know
the love that is.
but remains unspoken.

it is, every aspect of
daily life,
given extra,
shine and polish

it is, ever forgiving strife

true love is life
life is love.
the other stuff,
mere, broken tokens,
spilled upon cobblestones.
for ben, always for ben.
you have been a quiet hero
this past week my love... and so this is my gift for you.
A piece of me dies
every time
I see you.

But you're happy,
and that smile
on your face
has never seemed
so pure.

So if this is
what's best
for you,
then I'll continue
 May 2014 Violet Valley
i'm sorry for being this
in your life.
i keep the words
you whispered to me
in a dusty box
under my bed

i take them out
and they fly across the room
making me
making me
that i could forgive you
I love you.
But not in the cliche way of loving you.
I love you by your voice
By your hugs
By your smell
By your presence
By your constant care
By being you.
I love you,
But it's not cliche at all.
The feeling of an empty heart
Destroyed in war
The sharp pain of trying my best
But then you're gone
Like a leaf in an autumn day
You fly away

And I, left alone

In a dark, lonesome place without you
I die inside
With betrayal left behind
Some simple lies

And I, stand alone
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