honestly,  i don’t see myself as
a poet -
i am a historian who
writes
in poetic form

as are you
readers
and writers

our eyes
record
history as
it happens

storing it
in our hearts;
ushering it safely
on passage through
time

trading it with blank paper
in hopes of not
repeating the bad;
and reliving the good

i hate the word poet,
i am a historian
and so are you

I've down played my ego changing everyday
Not listening to any other voices but my own.
Not into the drama or rigged games
I spent my time away instead of wasting away
I give it to god he will provide no need to hide stay true
Others can be cruel even if they don't know you
I let the bad fade away start to make my own way
I've learned to love it's hard to trust
I forgive but it's hard to forget hate being stuck living with regret
One more time on my own this time I survive and grow.

You sweater has been in my car
for a year, I accidentally used it
at the beach but it still smells like
you, so maybe when I'm braver
Maybe when I'm stronger, maybe
when I'm better, I'll take it out.

the ice cube sat there at the bottom of the unfilled glass
slowly it began to melt
flooding emptiness
just like the bourbon
before

We sat cozily on the couch listening to Miles Davis
She, curled up with a glass of Chardonnay, me, a warmed brandy snifter
It seemed an eternity since we made time for each other like this
We enjoyed our home in silence, absent our attention grabbing offspring at Grandma's.

I savored the scent of her lavender infused body snuggled in my arms
Her beautiful brown eyes reflected flickered light
The candles we transplanted from our earlier bath, burned slowly
And "Kind of Blue" transported us as we held each other.

"May I have a sip of your brandy?" she asked coyly with a smile on her face
"Of course," I handed her my glass
"Not from your glass," her smile turned into a mischievous grin
The vanilla and oak from the brandy permeated the air above the gulp I took into my mouth.

My heart rate increased, my eyes closed, and our smiles met pressed together; Heaven is real...
Her lips parted, she pulled the brandy from me along with my tongue that now danced with hers
The fire of the brandy that left my mouth warm, now slid down her neck in one smooth swallow
We took great care in kissing each other, sensuously, passionately, time stood still, for us.

Luxuriating in this kiss, a tear fell from her eye, met only with the tears that fell from mine
As our mind's eye recalled the love we have endured over these adventurous years together
Brandywine never tasted this divine as from the lips of my beautiful lover
Lightheaded, more so from her than from the alcohol, I smiled and held her closer to me.

"I Love you Husband!"
"I Love you more Wife!"

-----ChawzzyScript

This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race,
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point;
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and my soul, and I shall sleep a space;
But my'ever-waking part shall see that face
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to'heaven, her first seat, takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they'are bred, and would press me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.