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The beginning and you knew from the start, your words formed like heaven sent art.
There's nothing I'd rather do than just be with you, kiss you, tell you I love you.
But I'm not stupid, I'm not blind, I can see it's all a lie.  
Throughout the middle, it's a riddle and hard to understand but it's always been a man I wanted to hold my hand.
The truth is hidden inside and when it comes time,
A lie will fill in this rhyme.
This line will tell the whole truth, everything you don't even know about you.
Towards the end, it's a friend I need but I couldn't tell you where that might lead.
There's more to it, I filled that in too late, now I must accentuate, it must have been fate.
The ending will show the past and a future that don't exist, a heartbreak you knew I couldn't resist.
That moment when you just can't fill in the blanks of your life,  your love, or your relationships...
All creation seems to cease
     we lie beside
With hearts like houses
     next-door neighbors
Hands like envelopes
     folded tight and sealed
Lips like long lost lovers
     blissful, close and warm
Love like a thousand red balloons
     high above the earth, ready to explode.
If you have my heart,
Then bruise it not.
Rather if it please,
Hold to your breast

And sense its gentle pulse
Or if pleases more,
Against your cheek,
And feel the sad echo

Vibrate along the jaw.
Do not bruise my heart,
But if pleases place to your lips
And kiss with love or wild desire,

Or if pleases more,
Hold in your hands and move around
With curious gaze as if a gem or object rare.
Bruise not my heart,

But let it beat against your own
Until its gentle pulse and yours
Become as one.
A LOVE POEM. WRITTEN 2010.
It's not about getting a chance,
it's about taking a chance.
To wait idly by
with mere faith of a chance is
to play the victim.
Crying doesn't mean you're weak,
but it also doesn't tend to solve problems.
Though, it does help to clear One's head
so One can take One's problems head-on.
If we're never apart,
we'll only ever have
one set of events,
albeit from different perspectives,
to discuss.

Doesn't that seem boring?
Doesn't the pain of being apart
pale in comparison to the pain
of self-indulgent over-stimulation?

It isn't that I don't love you,
so don't even begin to put those self-loathing words in my mouth.
It's simply that I value my space
and I value that of yours, as well.
I wear many hats, as it were,
and among my favorites of them
is the one we call "Musician."

As a Musician,
silence is the canvas
upon which I paint;
sounds are the fibers
of which are woven tapestries.

What is played
is just as important, if not moreso,
as what is not played.

Rests, that is to say "silence,"
are very much akin to white paint, or negative space:
so very often totally overlooked, taken for granted, or seen as 'unfinished,'
a lack of command over the medium in question.

Yet, I find much the contrary:
keen use of such negative space
can imply so very much more discipline and expressive control
than gallon upon gallon of paint
can even begin to define.

I guess I'm just avant like that.
If brevity is impossible, you're yet a novice.
(Now, ponder Law)
This is more than a goodbye
more than a placeholder, or
a to be continued, this is a farewell
to everything both good and bad

This is all my fears, every last tear
placed on a platter, and I am forced to consume them
one by one, until I'm reminded
that nothing good lasts forever and everybody leaves

This is more than a death, more than a
resurrection, I know now the loneliness
Jesus felt in that tomb, but this emptiness I feel
is going to last a lot longer than 3 days

I will rise, slowly, dusting off
the remnants of a less-than heart
never to be the same again
too many tears have been shed, but

*I'll see you next lifetime
I'll always find you, and you me

Inspired by Erykah Badu's song "Next Lifetime"
a song she used to play for me at the beginning of this rollercoaster
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