you wrote what you called
'part-time poetry'
and I'm still not sure what
exactly that means.
but I think you were also
part-time in love with me,
a few days a week in a few
daydreams,



and I was always full-time
in love with you.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
And haven’t spent countless nights wondering how their voice saves you,
Or how their laugh is such a beautiful melody you cannot put into words,
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you haven’t felt the first love butterflies,
Or the quiet sound of eyelashes against each other’s cheek,
As you kiss them for the first time.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You don’t understand the feeling when they hold you close,
As if gravity could never keep them down to Earth.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You haven’t felt the exploding emotion of feelings,
And feeling like you heart and soul will combust into dust,
When they say they love you for the first time.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You haven’t felt the red hot anger building in your throat,
And the tears coming down like waves from your eyes,
When the love suddenly goes away.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you cannot understand the emotion,
Or the words you wish you could form,
When they say the same words to someone else.
And you feel like an old photograph that was lost in the attic.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You do not know what it feels to watch your heart fall apart,
And crumble like soft rock dissolving in water,
Knowing you could never love someone as much you had loved them.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you are lucky.

Sometimes I'll stand in front of that mirror for so long,
I'll forget why I came into the bathroom,
Because I can still see your fingerprints
And a faint outline of a kiss on that hollow spot above my collarbone,
The spot you would kiss romantically
And I would twitch and laugh, because it gave me shivers,
And you would do it again
Because we weren't ****
We were silly, and tickle fights were our thing
The best thing;
And those fingerprints
On my hips and my ribs from holding me close
But mostly in that spot on my back,
Just below my shoulder blade,
Where you would tap your fingers to say Hello,
Remind me you were there, and I was yours;
Those aren't fading very fast;
I was always jealous of your tattoos,
The real ones and the ones that I would trace
When there was no light for me to see
That beauty is truth and truth beauty
But I suppose you gave me tattoos in a way
Left your mark in a way that only I could see
But today,
Today I saw me
Just me,
Clear skinned and smiling.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

The day was bright
I was driving, the road curved right
then
a sharp and sudden twist of tarmac
****** me into the piercing light
blinded by shards of brilliance
drowned
then overwhelmed by peace and stillness
I stopped.
trees were embracing the sky,
time appeared to fade
there was silence,
and peace was made.

Then for a second I could follow my heart
as it ran on
just like a silent movie
but in colour.