words moved me, and
God
i wanted my fingers to blister and my
bones to ache
but my mind withers and my heart breaks
i swallowed ink and still i couldn’t
make the words flow like they used to as if
almost as if
they refuse to

We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Only experiences count
now that every day matters:
new activities
beauty to the full

and attention to me
The rest, I clear out
What I have saved for years
I throw away neatly

in wrapping paper
or I fold flowers from it
witch will get dusted
in memory

of my company
our meetings
which cannot wait
We give each other

this day, everything
that can be intimate between
people in the passing
of an ordinary day

I do the fun things
that everyone says
he'd like to do, with you
and you and you and you

hold my hand
so your thumb
can tap that beat
on my wrist
the one my heart
decided to keep

if there is one thing I owe to love
that is poetry

whether I'm loving or hurting
it made a poet out of me
and I couldn't be thankful for
having to weave these feelings
into words
and gave it to the world