I don't remember what the last thing you said to me was.
I don't remember what shirt you were wearing.
I don't remember if it was one of those days where your eyes looked green or grey.
I don't remember if you had gel in your hair that day.
I don't remember. But if I knew it was the last time I'd see you, I wouldn't have taken that day for granted.

I dreamed of you last night. You sat in my house and said you missed me. You said you had missed me for the past several months, that I hadn't left your mind. You haven't left my mind. I will spend the next 24 hours wishing and hoping it was real. That in some way, I'm running through your mind. I miss you. Please call me.

It's around midnight
My feet kiss the cold, hard floor
I should have worn socks

Ever felt

Like drowning

Like it was easier
Than pursuing

Like loving
Was harder
Than living

I am a warrior poet.
Or maybe
I am a worrier poet.

My heart reaches out for a soul so absolutely intelligent that everything they say is interesting and I would never want them to stop. I want us to smile so much even while being apart makes it hard and only the thought alone can provoke. If they stood at eye level, we would be able to hold each other like most people hold one another only in bed; with my hands on his face and his on my waist. We could fit together like we were made that way. and I hope for moments I can share with the flowers, my nostalgia takes me back to my love for gardens.

The church, the steeple
My home, my people
How close to sin
How far from Him
While hypocrites preach
I pray the lord, my soul to keep