At the end of the day
I sit lonely and expect
   that I will fall asleep artlessly.
But there is nothing
as desolate like December.
     nothing
     as unsetteling like frost, biting its way
into my lungs.

It allows you there, It warms the side of your cold face,
As you shrink in the rear-view mirror’s gaze,
Its glaring presence lingers, refusing to clear,
…Stay too long and it burns you,
The orange light wraps around your collar,
Blinding me with its brightness, hiding your  smile,
I don’t want to let go,  yet it always slips away,
But now, it's no longer bright, it leaves to the night,
It's hard to remember, but I know it was there…
Only left with a blink of you…

I want to write you a poem,
One as fragrant as a breeze after the first rain,
carrying the scent of jasmine,
twisting softly through your hair.

I want to tell you how even the flowers, with all their perfumes,
grow jealous of your presence,
their petals fade, knowing they cannot match your grace.

I want to weave words around you,
like a shawl steeped in rosewater and musk,
wrapping you in whispers
that linger long after I am gone.
Like the sun's gentle glow in a cold morning,
warming you everywhere.

sometime life gets weary you feel so alone
cant get used to emptiness living on your own
lost inside yoursel no where you can go
gone now as the love that you used know

you feel like a hermit locked inside a shell
locked away from life in your lonely cell
all you have are memories you can look upon
these are special things that will help you carry on