These things happen I suppose.
They always happen.
I used to care about something, you know.
I did.
I used to feel something when I stared at the sky.
Now the hardwood feels cold under my feet,
and my lungs have lost their warmth.
The clouds eat me whole as I walk home.
They smile.
Sometimes I do too.
But I've wandered too far this time,
these steps don't look familiar.
Someone still sleeps inside this house,
but it's not me.
Someone still lives inside these bones,
but it's not me.

my body, my hands, my eyes
all copied from someone I don't like

DNA only won
in making me prettier than my dad
thanks to my mom

Maybe, challenge  that   shadows   but    are    words  and
maybe  you       sincerely.      it     in    believe   pride,  seems,
just       to          merely    the    discover   so       their       it
once    see          in         meaning  inside.   hide   in         as
you     clearly.   circles    my      message  will    breathe  solemn
will     love    extremes   dearly,     so         you     can        forever,
find     me           in           my        dreams,  where  reality  rests

I watched as you
cast yourself away
one step at a time;
with my gaze fixed
at your dauntless irises
how could I have known
that with every breath
you were drifting further away.

The clocks ticked away,
and all I have is the last of
second chances.

I watched as you slowly,
very slowly,
with such grace,
effortlessly,
faded into the horizon.

And all I have to thank
is the image of you
my eye lids were able to retain.

Petals of flower—
Impossible freshness, breaks day,
Her eyes opening.

So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.

The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.  

The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night.  Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.

O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.

From the top rung of the ladder,
         she slowly steps backwards
seeing me  approach, touch down
        then, like a whirlwind, quickly turns
kisses me full on my lips
           with  such an urgency
love full of passion alone would explain,
          the feast for my eyes for
what seemed a long time, a fallacy of course
         is forgotten by my thankless mind,
but, oh! yes my lips now receive
          the same measure of pleasure,
  as a love potion, with a searing taste.

Swollen & full,
I search her deeply,
gently push into
her sweet wetness.

It's so breathtaking,
when I pull out
then swirl back in
to the left,
then back to the right,
again & again,
from every angle,
up & down
she opens wider
& plays her part
so willingly.

I bask in her swill,
and she
does not fight me,
so wanton,
she craves this art,
the sensuous art
of French kissing.