I don't wanna be the sun and I don't wanna be the moon.
I wanna find a way to always share the sky with you.
I'll be the clouds and you be the breeze,
Or you be the branches and I'll be the leaves.
Maybe if we plant ourselves and reach for the sky,
Our roots will connect and we'll forever be entwined.

I am thinking of all the words that I never got to say; all of the letters and apologies, only published within my brain.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

dear Donald
fare thee well
and may you roast
in hell
for all the damage
you have caused

Sue is baking pretzels on a Thursday afternoon.
Flour on her hands, just like we used to.
Its some familair smell in the air,
Deep warmth that fills a room in the abscense of your laughter.

When I asked you if you thought about old loves,
You said she was a snuggie blanket in the closet.
You said she was a car on the side of the road.

I didn't understand just how far thoughts could wander.
They drive me crazy - traversing time,
Traveling places that this body no longer can,
Conversing with lingering loves in my mind -

"I'm building a travel van like you always wanted to.
I'll be travelling solo, and you won't know
Where I'll go and the things I'll see.
Its just for me.

..but I wish it weren't.
If you had the option, would you go?
If you had the option, would you want to know?"

I will always be wandering, searching for home.
I will always be wondering, wishing to know:

"Do you ever think of me
The way I think of you?"