On good days, I turn the pages,
Of the book with poems I once wrote.
So much pain in silent cages,
Words I bled but never spoke.

In black ink, lines carefully formed,
The pain I didn’t understand.
Black words my silence adorned,
Softly held by a warm hand.

Tell me truly who you are,
not from afar, but to my ear.
Do not fear:  I shall not castigate,
excoriate. Dissemble not:  No
equivocation. prevarication.
Tell me truly what's in your heart.
Is terror there, or guilt? Rage ablaze
from needs unmet? Do unhealed hurts
leave you reeling in a maelstrom of
doubt? Open up your heart
and let your agonies fly out.
In gentle ways let us discuss
worth of self. Let light
penetrate hate, mollify madness,
assuage pain. Let your forthcoming,
my love for your realness,
heal us both.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Bright like the sun in the sky so blue
Dazzling like the stars in the night sky too
Pretty like the flowers I picked for you
What is beauty for beauty is you

For all those days I talked with you
And all those nights I slept with you
I admire how you always remain so true
Surprising me with something new

What are the days of being with you
When we can include our lifetime too
Time is a game I can play too
'til the day I can shout that you are my boo

How long is the time I spent admiring you
Where is the place I wanna be with you
When is the day I wanna see you
What is love for I love you

It controls her
She can't stop it
It's a constant battle
She can't drop it

It has become a habit
She can't quit
It's taking over her body
Bit by bit

The scars fade
But the memories don't
She wants them to leave
But they refuse.. They won't

It's an on going battle.
It's a fight she never wins
It's a constant struggle
It's a war that never ends

It's her sweet escape
It gets her lost in her own place
She gets to control the pain
As her adrenaline starts to race

She grabs it off the dresser
As a tear falls from her cheek
She presses even harder
Reminding herself not to shriek

No one understands
No one ever will
This habit now controls her
As the world around her stands still

But now the room is spinning
Her head is getting light
She falls back in her bed
Refusing to put up a fight

She takes one last breath as she turns out the lights
Then she closes her eyes as she calls it a night

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

People say that absence makes the heart grow fonder;
But I do propose a more fitting word to use!

Isn’t that absence makes the heart go angry?
Conflicts and clashes, arguments at its best.

Isn't that absence makes the heart go weary?
Your warmth is what I need in this tangled mess.

Isn't that absence makes the heart go crazy?
Only with you, my mind can easily rest.

And yet, our love is still a pretty wonder;
I am yours, and you will always be my muse.

I know very
Well that
I haven’t been
The greatest
At love,

I haven’t chased
Grand gestures or vows,
But stumbled through
The mornings after,
The movie dinners,
The silences
Between us
Where love sits,
Waiting to be noticed,
Not a princess in a tower
Waiting to be saved,
But just two people,
Trying to stay close
Despite the gaps.

I don’t know if
I’ve loved the
Imperfections,
I’ve loved despite
Them,
The realization hits
Like a slasher movie,
Too late at night,
And too young
And unsupervised,

Sometimes I leave
Notes hidden in
Vases, behind cabinets,
Above the fridge,
And in the pockets
Of the new jeans
That I just got,
As a reminder to love,

Today I found one
In my glove compartment,
It’s getting cooler so
I rolled down the windows
And felt the breeze
Every time there was a red light,
I had the music loud,
Enjoying the mess of genres
That’s my Spotify playlist,
And I savored the moment,
In solitude, learning to love,
Not despite, but because of.

I don't do seasons.

What's the point?
Mother Nature pays no attention
anymore - no adherence
to long established norms.
Unreliable, like the rest.
Incomprehensible at best.

So why bother?
Why consider
this season's wardrobe?
Why plan life around the calendar,
when you need any-weather clothes?

So I don't do seasons.
I don't do disappointment.
I don't do expectations.
I just plan for the unplanned
and weather the summer storms.

I'm a man for no seasons.