Still water
resting
at the
bottom
of a
Pacific ocean
tide
pool,

reflections
of you
in my
mind
in the
Sunday
morning
light.

sometimes
I can imagine
I hear you
laughter
carried in
harmony
to me
on a
a salt-kissed
circling
wind.

and I
sit for
a moment
and smile.

I always
smile.

it is
a giving
thing that
you do.

your gentle
manner
of truth
and innocence.

I can always
feel it
there in
you eyes...

you are


where
good  poets
go to
die.

Some things can't be fixed
with tape and glue.
Some things can't be fixed.
Some things will always
stay broken.

it's a blade for you
but it's habit to me.
it's a blood for you
but it's craving to me.
it's a bottle for you
but it's an addiction to me.
it's a scar for you
but it's a desire to me.

you see how we're different yet?

If words could make your heart skip a beat, then I would write 10,000 poems and 10,000 more.

Because describing love is more than 10,000 ways.

All the roses and its thorns are intertwined, but it tells the story of one.
You.