candles light up her room
it smells like herbs
and flowers

fall is her favorite season
she enjoys the rain
while dancing trough the woods
barefooted

she's one with nature and the sun
but in love with the moon

I feel like I’m Stuck on Stupid

whenever I’m With You

& although I’m the birth child of
Cupid

i try to be the Best Man I Can Be

& it’s Simply Amazing

cause All I Want is You my
Sweet Lady

& All My Life I’ve prayed for

that Angel of Mine, my
Cherie Amour  -Pencasso

bring them on
I can feel them in the wings
waiting
breath baiting me
with their memories
if I can take them one by one
I have a chance
but when they rush me
jostle and push me
then I fail
life becomes too much
and I have to reset myself

The flower on the sidewalk
was uprooted ...
planted in a garden

From the dusty road
to a safe haven

Winter
bloomed
as if it were the summer season

Where I have arrived,
is a story I long to tell

Take a slow walk, beloved
Enter the garden

the butterflies
in your stomach

the rhythm in your
blues

the key to your
heart

i promise

until we’re no
more

forever your
cherie amour

We all work to live
Live to love
Love to give
Love to take
The biggest mistake
We are all guilty
Sinners you might say
Some of us won’t see
Another day
We all give our time
We stand in line
We march to the rules
Some man has designed
But at the end of it all
Have you really stood tall
And made your life worth
Loving and living on earth
Birth to death
Love to hate
Maybe we are all
Just the biggest mistakes

walking down the streets at 3 am
with my girls
complaining about how cold our legs are
but we actually know very well
that this is what we live for
screaming, laughing
as if we were alone on this planet
neither afraid of the dark
nor thinking about tomorrow
because at this moment we are free
just us and the streets
we don't sleep at night

You mind your steps
   after you've stumbled.
You miss your home
   after you’ve left it.
You value your health
   after you’ve been sick.

But you can’t enjoy life
   after you died.

Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,