Because I had loved you before I was thirteen
Because I had loved you throughout my teen
You stole my virginity: you deflowered me
Surely, I have composed and quieted my soul;
Now, I am like a baby about to be weaned

Because I have loved you so much
Because love can make us do and say crazy things.
Now it’s  impossible to love another.
Because I am the dark angel with heart shaped wings

we were driving through the night
your eyes fixated on the road,
and mine on my fumbling hands,

you were singing to the radio
your favourite song on blast,
I don't know what I said,
but it caused you to laugh.

I don't know where I'm going with this,
but by god, you've got a beautiful smile,
and I felt beautiful just looking at you,
why don't you smile more?

You've got sad eyes
and you're always looking away,
and when you held my hand
I didn't want it to break

but when you smiled,
everything was okay,
nothing else existed.

You should smile more,
I didn't fall in love today,
but I think I might someday.

(NJ 2015) (All Rights Reserved)

Maybe, poets write because they have unstable feelings.
Maybe, poets write at 2am, in order to ease it.
Maybe, poets write to contain their feelings in to it.
Maybe, poets write *hopelessly.
Maybe, poets write at 2am hopelessly hoping, that, someone, on the other side of the earth, someone is awake to read the poem.

*And maybe someone awake, maybe, to care.

I once told a lie
I once told a boy he was

.
     ...is a fragile little thing,
     that most tend to overlook.
     Small word with a **** big meaning.
     Some may uphold it; some may
     conveniently have it mistook...

Trust...
     ...is in the grasp of the unknown
     stranger,
     that helps you up when you've fallen
     down.

Trust...
     ...is the pact between you and the cab
     driver,
     as he takes you to where you want to
     be, across town.

Trust...
     ...the bough on which your swing does
     sit.
     Pray that it doesn't break as you enjoy
     its joyous ride.

Trust...
     ...your cook, hoping in your food he
     doesn't spit...
     Especially when you've provided
     feedback that scuffed his pride.

Trust...
     ...lays exposed when the keys to your
     house you surrender,
     to your neighbour who'd keep an eye
     while you're away on a retreat.

Trust...
     ...exists latent in the open palm of your
     caregiver...
     As a child you'd take his hand so he'd
     ferry you safely across the street.

Trust...
     ...is the unspoken oath that I had thought
     we both held sacred...
     When I spilled the contents, my heart
     couldn't bear much longer.

Trust...
     ...meant nothing when you took it all for
     granted,
     when you weakened and succumbed...
     ...and then shared with another...

All the huffing and puffing
led to nothing. I better have
a seat and grab a red velvet
muffin. Sigh and look to my
lover straight in the eye somehow
the world in my head seems
to settle down and be just fine
when i look at him* ~