I
write
for the pleasure
when all that is pent up is
let free
I
write
for cleansing
of the things within
that fracture a heart and cloud a
thought
to
solace
a lone soul that longs for
a home
I
write
for understanding
to forget as much as I can
to forgive as I’m able the wrong that is done
to neutralize hurt before it roots
into hate
I
write
for healing
to touch and be touched
as written words can only do when all else has been used  
and no one comes
through
I
write
to listen
to hear what needs to be
heard
I
write
what I see
because it moves me
and what inspires me might inspire
those who take time to read what I write
I
write
because I must
if I don’t it doesn’t feel right
thus I pen what I feel
as a result of what I am
a writer
so…
I
will write
and
write, 'til
there’s
no

more

Life

When someone asks me if I'm happy, I don't know what to say.
I have no reason to be sad, but what is happiness anyway?

Some synonyms are, fortunate, cheery, content, untroubled, delighted.
But some of that isn't true,
Fortune doesn't always make you happy, and untroubled is that way too.

The best way to be 'happy' or thankful for having life.
Is to go through struggles and overcome the temptation of a knife.

When someone asks me if I'm happy, I say that I can be.
I have seen enough pain and sorrow to cherish every good thing.

I love autumn.
Why?
*Because it shows that dying can be beautiful.

It's vicious.
He spits honey-coated excuses
Just as I misplace forgiveness
Sliding under him,
Rising over me
As snowflakes fall outside this Brooklyn brownstone of mistakes.

But these pebbled streets
and long-forgotten sidewalks,
crossed daily by hundreds
...they soften everything.

It's beautiful and tragic
as I remember nothing and everything
If only for some time,
if only in this place.

This crack in the sidewalk, his hand in mine
That tree with the branch that hangs too low...
his eyes
a smile
true love.

This is where I come to forget.