"𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓂𝑒"
    Mellifluous thunder in the air,
         just another devout fool looking for serendipity,
              raise my languor arms,
                   for I fear solitude,
                        so play the secret chord,
                               ring the bells,
                                  send a dove,
                                     take this sanguine fool.

Help me,
  I fear being left alone.
        -ℓσя∂

Between two musical notes,
   exists the memory of us dancing to your heartbeat.
      grains of sand between our toes, shoes we could not afford.
         getting strange looks,
               you took my hand,
                  & we danced. . .

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

They tell us!
     When he stopped loving you!
           You shall move on , step by step. . .

    But did they know every melody is timeless,
            Every ocean breeze brings the smell of sweat, salt and rain,
Every hoodie, brings back warm cups of winter tea.
     Every sheet brings back the image of you laying next to me.


How do we move on?
𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒

Shes but 16
   trying to provide for her baby ,
                          she walks the nights,
                               full of ominous eyes,
                                   past smoke filled rooms,
                                            he takes her in his arms,
                                                What began in honesty,
                                                    ends in it too,
                                                                     .  . .dollars exchanged. . .

"What will my baby think?"


** Poem inspired by the poor young girls trapped due to economic circumstances I met and talked to during my trip to Tijuana

Maybe one day,
I can escape the chasm of mental ignorance,
              Dance the art of intellect in perpetuity
                                             Time does not forgive. . .
                                                              It only takes. . .
                               The mind ripens, the body weakens,
                                   Swallowed by a raging sea of damnation
                                             there is no SOS, no cries, only silence.

Every flower eventually wilts,
    Every bone rots,
        may history be forgiving. . .