Photography* is poetry using light.
Poetry is painting with words.
Painting is sculpting on eyes.
Sculpting is music for stones.
Music is writing through feelings.
Writing is pottery with thoughts.
Pottery is photography of clay.

It was always that Peppermint White Mocha.
It's so funny that a simple drink... one that I choose every single time.
A drink my friends and I have turned into a small inside joke.
A drink that tastes like Christmas ( which you know I hated) and Joy ( but i was always too pessimistic right?).

A drink that no matter the weather I still choose that one single drink.
Don't get me wrong, I've tested other flavors.
I've tried it iced.
I've tried it blended.
I've tried it at a local coffee shop in every city I go too.
But nothing compares to the original.

Funny how this started with you.
Are we even talking about the drink anymore?

The simple life

It is cold;
sea spray paint the ship white,
light green
is the Nordic water,
a mighty cocktail
of clinking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face
on the thick glass of
the porthole.
We will dock in a town
that have warm rooms
people sit around a fire  
give a **** about sailor’s
miserable life.
Seascape paintings hangs
on gilded walls;
look at that sea,
so verdant,
delicate brush strokes;
the artist died at a mad house.

I was

Keeled over
Screaming
In the garage.

I laid in there

I wished that
There was some way
You could feel
My pain,
My sorrow.

I remember thinking that

Every second
That goes by
Is another reminder
Of what I lost.

I had to

Be quiet
Because they were
Sleeping
In the other room.

I could feel my

Heart breaking
As I studied
Your face
Like I would never
See it again.

Because I knew,

Yes I knew,

That I wouldn't.

Is it worth sketching
An alluring portrait,
That will catch the eye of many,
Except for the person portrayed?

Is it worth making
a steaming cup of tea,
On a cold rainy day
for a guest who is
more eager to stay outside?

And tell me,
Is it worth it if I
were to light a candle,
For a dead man's birthday cake?