With Love as white as snow,
Pure like doves, I know.
Love is all around,
Not lost, Not found.
But within the emptiness,
Of loneliness I drown.
As the world turns, The pain burns,
The clock turns, And I learn.
That Love hides, Defies,
And breaks the mind.
Just in the best of ways.
Whiter than the,
black of snow.

**-N.C.

A single jasmine
can be my garland
A single grape
can be my vineyard.

You
are all I need.
You
add fragrance,
You
add sweetness
to my being.

You
are my one
in the many
Also
my many in
the one...

I would rather be empty
Than lead a shallow life.

you will never understand the gravity of your words.
your intentions out of pure lust
and mine, out of pure love.

-a.

It's within the grown out roots
where the Garden Owl still hoots
Sings the melancholy song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong.

It's within the thatching of the dwelling
And a failed attempt at fortune telling.
Beyond the garden of the bugs
Beyond the magpies and the slugs

A moon was folded into quarters
Grind it with pestle and mortar
Strip it down to crater powder
Feel it till the song sounds louder

The Garden Owl sings his song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong
And under the brown thatched roof
The girl detests her blue eyed youth

So radiant and fascinating is a flower's beauty ,
Protected by its thorns revealing a loyal duty ...

One step,
Bare feet.
Glance up,
Eyes meet.

Breath caught,
Dry lips.
Cheeks hot,
Stomach flips.

Throat clears,
Mouth parts.
Words catch,
Shiver starts.

Bright sun,
Sandy toes.
The ocean's words,
No one knows.

But you could hear,
Just like me,
Those salty waves,
That set us free.

We didn't speak,
Or make a sound.
You just took my hand,
Water bound.

There we stood,
Wet to our knees.
Closed our eyes,
And could finally breathe.

It's like hearing the ticking of a time bomb
But not able to find where it’s coming from  
Until you put your hand to your chest
And then you realize
That the bomb is your heart
And the tick, ticking
Is
Its
Beat.

With one night stands and sleep arounds
the social stigma is reduced to grounds
that begin with coffee one malnutritioned morning
and end with morals being left at the pound
independence isn't what anyone has found

I
  have
a
desire
        for
              every
                         inch
                              of
                                  you.
                           The
            whisper
         of
           your
                  voice                                
                           coursing      
                   thr­ough
            my
       body
            filling
                    every
                             curve
   ­                                  with
                             the
                   sound
              of
                you.
                         The
                    warmth
                                   of
                              your
                                       breath
                                             on
                                          my
                              craving
                           lips,
                 and
                     the
             taste
                  of
             you
                      under
                               the
                               blankets.

They'll tell you
That they want you
And they need you
And they love you
But the truth is
Love is a dog from hell
And you're just a stack
Of bones

You are the heavy rain,
I am the grassland
plagued with drought.
Love me, cover me,
help me heal myself.