violet sky gathering sooted clouds
as sunlight gives way to nights shroud
a touch of rain falls warm
the pepper clouds may yet bring a storm

Its the color of the mood I feel when I wake up next to you,
its murky water, not yet settled as I trample across the river looking for pretty stones
It's the color of your hair when its wet, and you hold me for warmth
that mongrel color of a thousand beautiful colors mixed together when a child plays with water paints.
It's modest, yet beautiful, its wildly serene. It feels like nature
It's the color of your eyes,
and it's a color that makes me want to kiss you until our eyes no longer see anything.

memories fade,
but truth has its ways,
of sticking to things that are made.
days months and all of time can pass
but truth speaks the same language,
if only in a softer voice

another day dies
but there's no fear in my eyes
this day
it slips away
should it be cause for dismay?
maybe I'm supposed to scream
as mortality slips through the seams
ever slow
life goes from shine to glow
so why
after the years of affection in the matter of days
have your eyes never changed
but stayed the same

cant i say it with a kiss?
this poetry that went amiss
lost by mistake, and never found
from no lips shall its rythm resound
but its monumental memory lives on
in the vacancy it causes when i saw it was gone
but perhaps we can make something beautiful there
like a graveyard with a mountain view for the dead to stare
like dead rose petals leading to a bed
the lack of the poem can cause a smile instead.
so i wrote this poem just to say
that poem you wanted so badly
was probably is in the moment we make each day