Seemed as if we were both reading the same book.
I knew one of us would outpace the other.
..Most likely it would be me.
I guess I am too eager to see what unfolds on the next few pages.

But for whatever reason, and with no warning, you put your book down.
The rest of the pages in my book become empty.
Flipping back and forth doesn't help.
As soon as the pages start to tear I realize I have to put mine down now.

This isn't the first story I've found where the words just disappear.
No happy ending.
No ending at all..
Just another unfinished adventure...

It's difficult for me
To keep my emotions
From running off,
And to keep my troubles
From catching up
When someone like you
Shows up.

You came into view
And I couldn't hold back the tears.
I embraced you with everything I had.

There wouldn't be much time if any.
I knew I was dreaming,
And I desperately wished I wouldn't wake up.

My sobbing turned to tremors.
And yet you were calm.
At peace.

Felt like you knew I needed to see you again.
To tell me it was okay you were not here anymore.
The tears still burn my face as I write this all down.

It's so pleasing to have your breath
Just taken away
When you think that could never happen
Again.

It wasn't obvious in the beginning.
Her face gingerly held in my hand
Lips so pleasantly inviting
...And she didn't stop kissing.....

What a rush..
When I realized I needed
To take a breath.
The euphoria.. wasn't prepared for that.

The kisses kept coming
So sweetly and softly.
...And with a teasing bite of my lip she concluded,
"Now go home."

She must have known not to spoil me
Anymore and I would have had trouble leaving.
Barely-there ripples danced across my skin.
With one more gentle kiss and a quiet smile I had bid her goodnight.

Without a Queen
What is a crown
To a King?

"Just another storm outside," she sighed.
The windows quietly rattle
From the distant thunder,
And the panes softly reflect
The obscure taps of raindrops.

The storm is of no importance.
Relaxed, she continues writing
Engrossed in the life
The storm would not shake..
..Nor could it tempt her back..

Her thunder was more marvelous than this storm could ever invoke.

My skin is hard and weathered
As is the asphalt that lays bare
And bleached by the sun's rays.

Your words are the childish chalk
Scribbled across and littering the road
Right in front of our home

And your treason is the hushed rumble
Of chilled autumn rain washing your despairing apologies
Down the gutter at the end of the street