A long whsispered monologue
Curling up in a ball
The fresh air of winter morning
Sleeping with the lights on
A first and final passionate kiss
Tip toeing down a hallway
Conversations at twilight
Eating chicken wings with nothing to clean your hands
Searching for lost treasure.
Waiting for the rain to come.
Watching a snowflake melt into water.
The first crop of the season.
When somebody hands your wallet in,
And the money still in it.
Reconnecting with old school friends.
Visiting foreign shore and ancient city's.
Building a business, building a brand.
A trip to the Tate national.
The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and Neil Young,
For starters.
When the night won't seem to end.
The sound of your voice in the morning.
Breakfast in bed, fresh coffee
In a wide open space.
*For all those times I took you for granted.

I'm always catching up
notes in school
fashion trends of the cool
I feel like im always behind
but by the time I catch up
it will surely be time to die

Anyone can be someone for a short period of time

Don't punish me for what I feel.
Our routine may have ended with an unpleasant stroke.
But I promise, I'll climb over the fence
when the wires have been taken down.
I'll leap off my bed, when we've overcome our drowsy spell.
Maybe, when the rain steers our lips together once more, I can make it to you.
But for now, don't punish me for placing ellipses in the spaces between us.

WATER'S LAUGHTER

(Being An Early Christmas Poem For Jan)

She laughs
like water

pours herself
into my embrace

takes whatever shape
(cuddle hug Indian ******
statue Kamasutra)    

within these
arms

I kiss her
with a love

that cannot
harm her

me the container
of who I am

holding her love
like water's laughter.

Who am I
but the broken pieces
Of who I used to be

Who am I
but a silhouette of the bright future
I had always dreamed

Who am I
but the fading cry inside my heart ;
"I'm still here. I am. I am."

Who am I
But what's left of everything
That broke me

Who am I
But another racer
Who does not know where he is going

Who am I
But a love
that is never loved back

Who am I
But a mixture of feelings
That have already been felt

Are my thoughts original?
Or are they echoes
Of every things they have witnessed