whoever told you
words had power
lied.
it is in how you use them
that the power
resides.

it's sunday morning
i'm sitting at the table
you're still in bed
but i hear the alarm go
you'll be down soon.
i'm the morning person.
i've made you tea,
and myself some coffee
stirred in some honey
some toast
some jam
a few slices of fruit
the birds outside are
joyfully conversing
about their warm
restful evenings.
cars pass our home
and the sunlight
that reaches through
the window begs me
to stay in this infinite
paradise that is a life
with you, my darling
whoever you are
this figment of my
imagination
whom i dream of at the
earliest points of the
day, wishing and waiting
to spend a simple
sunday morning
with you.

"I cry," Said the sky,
"Sometimes I cry."
"But why?" said I,
"You're so high, Why cry?".
"I am high," said the sky,
"So high that I see them all die, and I cry."
He said with a sigh.
Then,
So did I.

Sometimes I wonder
And other times I let go.
Both thoughts hurt equal.

there you were,
standing in your
yellow aura
and i blinked.
and all that was
left was this gold dust,
shimmering
and the ethereal
shadow of what
we could have been.

i loved you.
i still love you.
i always will.

the sunshine of your
smile will be imprinted
in the palette of my mind
as the softest and brightest
of daffodils.
your eyes will be
painted with
aureate flecks
and chocolate
and your hair a collective
shade of the deepest
parts of my soul, dark
and distinct against
the daylight
that collapses

                    to
         its
            
knees
when it reaches your cheeks.

I outline you in my heart
with the clearest acryllic
so as not to ever forget
your form and the
way that it nestled to mine.

You, my darling
are the color that I used
to despise the most,
because that color represents
a part of me I could
never understand and love
before I met you


my forever sunflower.