They say true love never dies.
Oh how they’re wrong because it does.
True love does die.

It happens suddenly.
It happens out of nowhere.
You could be doing anything.
Getting coffee or reading a book.
Petting your cat or going for a run.
You’re going about your business and then you see them.
That one person who made your day light up like the sun does during the first light of the day. They have that twinkle about them like the North Star.
The sweet smell like the salt in ocean water… But your day isn’t any brighter than it was before anymore.
The twinkle is gone and there’s no sweet scent that kisses your nose.
And when they touched you, your insides ignited and set you aflame.
Your blood pumped through your veins and your heartbeat quickened so fast you were sure it would beat right out of your chest.
Their skin was like honeysuckle and their lips tasted like cherries and wine you got drunk on….however, their touch left you chilled.
Your heartbeat slowed and your blood went about its normal business.
Their skin seemed paler than before and their lips tasted like stale beer and toothpaste.
You feel as though you should feel disappointed but you don’t, for you knew this would happen. You hurt for awhile but soon you find someone else who sets you on fire and smells like the beach.
You find someone else who shines like the Big Dipper and your heart beats at a rapid pace that should concern you.
You find someone else who kisses like the smell of spring and feels like untouched snow.
True love does die because if it was true love to begin with, you’d think that it’d be there forever. That it would never leave your side until it *does.

I would write about love
If I knew what it was
My prince is just lost....
Its the most probable cause

I've never been held
All through the night
Or had what he says
Make me feel right

I've heard of love though;
Deep, strong and slow.
You know, the kind
That can stand against time

Or like fireworks so bright
Passion in the night
Sweet love in summer
To make your heart flutter

When you look into eyes
That can see though your soul
Or be held in the hands
That make you feel whole

Its better to have loved and lost
Than to never haved loved at all.
But I ask, what's worse?
Your heart ripped out
Or empty forever.

A candle  in the
Dark           Like a
Ligh              Tbulb
In a                  Box
Flick               Ers
Until t        He bat
           Terys
            Run
            Out

The whispering willow
Murmurs secrets to the trees
Which are whisked away softly
By the sweet wild breeze

How soft you are
On my nose
When it runs
And when I blow

Pulled from a box
Like a magic mans hat
Clean as my conscience
(But don't ask about that)

A million stars twinkle
Above me as I lay
Upon this field of dewy grass
So cold and yet I stay.
A million eyes are winking
A billion opals gleam
And I just lay here thinking
About this waking dream

This choice before me lingers
It transmogrifies the air
And resonates inside me
With what's already there.
The wind around me whispers
The stars begin to dance
The grass beneath me shivers;
I found myself, at last

What is this place
Where I am;
The people are so strange.
They glide around
With too many words,
But not one kind exchange

Walking through the busy streets
A stranger.
My home.
I get tossed and thrown
Through the surging crowd
Is this my home?
I open my eyes
To watch like a child
The streets,
The sky.
Curious eyes see dragons soar
Above the raging current of faceless people
It never looked down,
And neither do I.
The dirt on my shoes
Or the wind in the stars?
I soar.
I am the dragon
Distant and watchful
I guard with lazy eyes
My stranger.
My home.
The people surge past me
A pulsing, writhing mass
They move as one.
Patterns and colours swirling
Everybody wants to be somebody.
To stand out.
I am a dragon.
A secret dragon.
I don't stand out though,
I fly.
And they will never catch me.

Sometimes I lie in bed and dream
Of summers' vanilla kiss
And of fields of colours
As cotton fluff drifts beside
The racing iridescent bubbles

Sometimes I remember
The soft sway of orange and yellow leaves
As they spiral through moss-smell
and sunbeams in fall

And sometimes I laugh
When I think about the sparkling sugar
And sharp bite of snow
As I tumble into the house for cocoa,
bright-eyed and exhausted

But sometimes I search for tomorrow
The soft green bursting
Around splashes of rainbow fairy hats,
Dusting the sky with the smell of happiness
And shimmery yellow sun drops dancing
Over hazy parks

And sometimes I watch
The cotton- fluff clouds float by
And breathe the clean smell of wild waterfalls and icecream,
To the distant music of bumble bees
And laughter
And sometimes I smile
And dream
And let the sun warm my face
Until the blackberry brambles
Whisper my name to the breeze

A poem isn't like somthing,
It is.
A poem is everything
Or nothing at all.
A poem does not need to rhyme,
Just because.
A poem can be anything
   -a fear or a dream
But a poem by an artist
Is a work of art.