the yellow glow of the rising sun
gives me the gift of renewed hope
and gratitude for my breath and life
today

Maybe you're right.

Maybe it's for the best.

Maybe i'll get over it.

Maybe then this will be behind us,

Well it's already behind you.

I bet you've already put the book away,

Saying no it's not an option.

Then that's all it is for you.

Maybe I don't want it behind me.

I keep this book open,

Because I want to keep it close.

For me it's not an option.

It's something I need to happen.

Maybe we shouldn't be together.

Maybe you are right.

Maybe you were and always will be.

Maybe is only a maybe.

Maybe we shouldn't for now.

But maybe doesn't mean forever.

Maybe if you read all this.

This one poem now.

Maybe you wouldn't realise,

That I'm lying to myself.

Maybe I can say maybe.

Maybe we shouldn't.

Another thing I can say though,

Is maybe that we should.

Unfortunately you don't agree with that.

Maybe as I know,

You never will agree.

Maybe one day you will.

Maybe is a word,

That I can say a million times.

If I say maybe we shouldn't,

Even if I said it that much,

It would never ever mean,

That the maybe wasn't a lie.

Maybe I'm still into you.

Maybe I always will be.

Maybe you'll never want me.

Maybe I'll be fine with that.

Maybe I just lied again.

Maybe I would rather that,

Than having my love for you stop.

Maybe we shouldn't.

Now I could put that in every verse.

Maybe I could put in the opposite,

But that would change this poem.

This is about how we shouldn't,

Even if I think we should.

Let's be honest here and now.

You think we shouldn't,

But I will always think we should.

Maybe it will take you twenty years,

To actually understand why.

I don't mind if my hearts get broken,

As long as it's by you.

It may already be cracked,

But I'm proud that you caused that.

Maybe I'll still be sitting here,

All these years later.

Maybe i'll still write these poems.

Maybe I'll put them in a letter.

Maybe I could send them to you.

Maybe I'll throw them in the sea.

Maybe at least they'll go somewhere.

Anywhere could be better.

Maybe we shouldn't.

Do I need to say it another time?

All of us here are knowing,

That these lies keep coming.

Maybe it's only you,

That I will ever leave my heart open to.

Maybe one day you'll open your heart as well.

Maybe I already know,

That it won't be open to me.

Maybe this poem is stupid.

Maybe it's full of hopeless hopes.

Maybe it's all lies.

Maybe it won't be so simple to you,

But I know what I feel inside.

Maybe we shouldn't,

The name of this poem.

This poem is all a lie.

The Waterfall,
Is blue with silver highlights.
It appears clear and clean,
Rapidly flowing into the stream.
The water is frothy,
Where it falls to hit the water.
At least things like this,
Are caught when they fall.
The sunlight still shining,
The water doesn't mind.
It continues it's journey,
Searching for it's destination.

The waterfall.
It's beautiful,
A sight to all.
But how do we know,
What's hiding underneath?
We hide pain,
All in our fake smiles.
What if this waterfall,
Hides things in it's beauty?
If we wait long enough,
Do you think we could see?

His lips on my lips,
And his hands on my hips,
I'd say it was wrong,
But it feels like it fits,
Like it's right,
It feels nice,
And I enjoy him so much.
And he'd be great as my friend,
But he's so perfect to touch.
And I want him,
I crave him,
I think he is fine.
I would tell him so,
But he's not even mine.

Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.

I was lone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and nigh swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.

But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the *****! Oh your voice, slow and sad!

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.