Last night I fell asleep
In the arms of a dream.
Hushed by the quiet
Drumming of my heart.
I was caressed by gentleness
Of the comforter and the cream-colored sheets.

Last night I fell asleep
Not knowing if I would wake up.
In my mind I was startled
By the things unsaid and undone.
I was assaulted by my goals
Whispering to me what I needed to accomplish.

Last night I fell asleep
Exhaling my tears.
Inside I was screaming
And calling your name.
I was lost and alone
With no friend to call home.

Last night I fell asleep
With the hope of finding me.
In myself somewhere
I knew I existed-hiding.
I was called a wanderer.

"But not all those who wander are lost."

I'm sorry. I guess.
I think I should be,
I think I hurt you.
But I had to find out second hand.

I'm sorry. I guess.
That you didn't talk to me,
Because ignoring me
Is colder and crueler.

I'm sorry. I guess.
That we both were hurt,
You didn't understand how I felt.
I never told you.

I'm sorry. I guess.
We were close,
Too honest,
Too free and easy going.

I'm sorry. I guess.
That you ever felt that way,
Becuase I never did.
But maybe I felt something.

I'm sorry. I guess.
I'm just tired of whatever that was.
What we weren't
What you wanted.

I'm sorry. I guess.
You weren't ment to hear that.
I didn't mean those words,
For you to hear.

I'm sorry. I guess.
That you thought I was a better person
And you realized that.
I'm sorry I guess I'm not.

Watch the waves on the sea,
The way they change from day to day;
Crashing on the shore.

At full force with the moon at night,
Hitting everything in their way
Watch the waves on the sea,

With walls of water at full height,
Capturing the moon’s rays
Crashing on the shore.

Rocketing mist into full flight
Leaving those without anything to say ,
Watch the waves on the sea,

With the moon as the only light
The show can be seen from miles away,
Crashing on the shore.

With the moon shinning bright,
You just want to stay.  
Watch the waves on the sea,
Crashing on the shore.

They smell of must,
Burnt paper.
Something charred,
The burning end of a cigarette.

A blackened snow,
They crumble to the touch.
Fluttering down,
Gently falling, a pile.

Some light,
Some dark.
Some miniscule,
Some huge.

Different meanings;
Memories,
Bad habits,
Even secrets.

Some represent the dead,
They speak stories.
They make the deceased,
Come alive.

love is
the sound of the voice of a girl who lives
3,781.8 km away
who calls you just to hear you say
Hello,
i love you,
i am not only here
but i am
listening.
Because long distance charges don't apply
to those who have telephone wires attached
to their hearts.

love comes
in waves of
strange connections,
painstaking inventions
that enable
the sad to meet the sad
the sick to meet the sick
where only a fragile minority find each other and decide
to stay and not feed each others
insatiable demons
because there is a mutual understanding
of what it is to be at war with oneself
constantly fighting to get through
another day
where something as small as a
hello,
i love you
is enough to make you want
to stay.

love is
a series of lessons you learn
from a girl
who is wise beyond her years
who is too young to be so sad
who is too smart to be so uncertain
who is too brilliant to realize her own
abysmal radiance.

Dearest Hillary,
in exactly one month
you will be greeting me
with the same open heart you always have
the only difference is
i will finally be able
to feel
it
beat.

Powdered sugar mountains
Snowing with sweet
Delectable dunes
Infused insects
Pureed peaks
Zesty zeolites
Caramelized clouds
and Sauteed Sunshine
These are a few of my favorite things.

Jane waited for you
by the narrow road
that led to Linch farm

the water tower visible
against the afternoon sky
of pale blue and white

cold clouds
she was dressed
in a grey coat

and her dark hair
was pinned back
with grips

you noticed
blueness
about her lips

the cold taking toll
wasn’t sure
if you would show

she said
the coldness
and such

I said I would
and I say
what I mean

you replied
once you were close to her
she took her hands

out of the coat pockets
and linked her arm
through yours

where shall we go?
she asked
you know it better

around here than I do
you choose
you said

let’s go up
the dust track
to the hollow tree

on the way up
to the Downs
she said

ok
you said
and so you walked along

and up the dust track
side by side
and she talked

of the wintery trees
and what birds
there were still about

and how she liked
spring best with the coming
of flowers and birds nesting

and you listened
looking at her
as she spoke

watching her lips move
how when she spoke
her white teeth showed

and now and then
her tongue would show
and it reminded you

of that kiss she gave you
up by Diddling church  
as you stood looking

at the grave stones
and she gazed at you
and then kissed

and her tongue
touched yours
and it was like heaven

as if someone
had opened up
your heart

and stuck
their tongue in there
and as you thought

about that kiss
she talked of some girl
of a cowman

who’d got pregnant
and how did that happen?  
she asked

and you said nothing
but listened on
and then you reached

the hollow tree
and climbed inside
and sat down

looking out
of the hole
in the side

and it felt cosy
in there
like a small home

and she leaned
in against you
and there was silence

and you looked at her
at her eyes
and hair

and how her lips
were parted
and her white teeth

showed and her tongue
waiting to speak
and you wondered

about that kiss again
and whether
it would happen this time

there in the hollow tree
out of sight
of others

and she showed you
tucked between
her small *******

a small locket
which used to be
her mother’s.