A hole in my heart exists
Where once you resided.
An aching loss
A tingle where once
Arms encircled me
And I felt wanted
Loved
Needed
Adored
Necessary.
I don't think it's you I miss
For our last kiss was
Like the kiss of a stranger.
No.
I do not miss you.
I miss what you were to me
My darling
My Heracles
The moon that I circled,
A twinkling star,
In the dusk that was my life.
It's night now.
And you remain gone.

Tonight was filled with maybe.
A look, a smile,
A realm of possibility.
Some doubt of course
But at the very end
A definite perhaps.

I do it because I have to
Waiting around is not beneficial
Falso hope isn't good company
So why not move on?
You had me hooked
With the sweet words and tender kisses
The love you shared was far from fake
But this time apart is real
Temporary love we exchanged
To be apart was planned and arranged
Time keeps going, moving forward; and so should I

When you past is gone but your furtue is yet to come
What's the first thing that comes to mind?
Do you wish of new
Or dream of the old
The only thing that took you by surpirse
Was the change in time
Did you want to slow down?
When everything just fell into place
All you remember is the smile on your face
Did you still fear the impossible?
As ill actions were shown
Was respect lost?
When life threw you handfuls of oppertuinities
But none caught you
Did you sitll take the chance?
The chance of change
Chance of somehting new
As if nothing else mattered; The world against you
Unspoken words became guilt
And your regret never left you
Would you speak wisdom now?
When your past is gone but you future is yet to come
What's the first thing that comes to mind?

Her tanned skin reflects in the mirror of which she stares
Only to find imperfections and disatisfaction
Her mind fights her every morning
To some size is just a number on the inside of your jeans
To her size is everything
She is painfully thin
This isn't a disease but rather a way of life

You are not beautiful, I say,
but beauty.

You are the standard by which I judge the skies
on crisp winter evenings that flow with milk and honey.

The lilies, as they peer from their silk pajamas,
aspire to one day be placed in your room.

Your eyes are the song the meadowlark sings
as he bathes in the mid-summer's heat.

The forests blush vibrant, then whither away
humbled to be called by your name.

You are not living, I say,
but life,

that I should have you all of my days.