Once
I met a boy with soft grey eyes
that matched the color of his sweatshirt
His smile was tentative but it made him mildly more attractive
He didn't say much but he listened intently
And I wondered what he was thinking
But he gave nothing away
Once
I talked to a boy with soft grey eyes
that peered into mine
and blond hair
that he kept pushing off of his forehead
In closer proximity with him I realize
He's a very striking young man
Once
I had dinner with a boy with soft grey eyes
that paired well with the purple shirt he was wearing
Everything he said captivated me
He talked steadily but quietly
He was charming and funny
and I have never been so hypnotized
Once
I fell in love with a boy with soft grey eyes
and a heart bigger than his head
He brushed kisses over my forehead like the words he spoke
Gentle and sweet but strong
so that I knew he loved me too
Once
I fought with a boy with soft grey eyes
that projected his silent anger
when he had no more to say
It was my fault and I pushed him too far
until his face turned dark
and he let his hair fall onto his face
because he was too enraged to push it away
But he never rose his voice
he never yelled
he always kept the love in his voice
But once
I lost a boy with soft grey eyes
Because the soft grey turned dark
until the love seemed to slip away
It was still there, I knew, but it was harder to see
And I still thought about the boy I met that day
Quiet and reserved
hardly saying two words but he slowly stole my heart
but taking it all away until I wished I had met him
Only once

everything is a curse
this sunlight
this perfect day
this wine
the cheese
the crisp green grapes
the poppies ,geraniums
and the flattering peony
everything is a curse
when I think of love
when I think of your kiss

you're a postscript as a title.

I want somebody
to dance with me
so that I may stop fumbling
between the shaky hands
of your memory

on another note
I want to wake up

stained with your kisses
engulfed by your scent
safe in your tired arms

I want to comb my fingers through
your nearly blonde stubble

watching your eyes open
adjusting to my delicate touch

What torture it is
to witness love,
only from a far,
and never participate.

I find myself
writing about what
love should be
sharing cute couple
pictures with cheesy quotes
and yet still being alone.

I feel that I am doomed
to be the stenographer
of this little blue orb,
and all that lies outside its walls.
I document but never experience
I write but never feel.

My only regret is
maybe my one true whatever
has already come and gone,
and left me behind,
but wouldn't I know if I had
been in that one true
whatever?

And so, I will write on,
observe love from far away
and hope for my
one
true
whatever.

So much bile
so much poison
I wonder how
you are alive
with these proportions
One can only be a thorn
or a shard
a shard your are
that I can validate
a piercing one at that