it's always been a favorite of mine
to see snow around this time.
watching the lights sparkle and shine,
on a green christmas pine.

it's always been a favorite of mine,
to hear all the sounds around this time.
hearing the children’s choir singing,
carrying the joy and love they're bringing.

it's always been a favorite of mine,
to smell the smells around this time.
smelling peppermint and gingerbread,
humming Christmas songs stuck in our head.

it’s always been a favorite of mine,
to feel the things around this time.
feeling the cold bite of winter air,
feeling the warmth of being next to you playing with your hair.

it’s always been a favorite of mine,
to dream of things around this time.
seeing you and out in the snow,
saying you’re the one I know.

Oh to have you around
Around this time of year.

your loving arms,
your tender touches.
your affectionate kisses,
your warm hugs.
your smooth skin,
your beating heart.
your fond eyes,
your caring smile.

all these things and more
are all the reasons why
i love you.

You throw blame
casually, consistently,
targeting me.
Small bullets
constantly peppering
under a guise of civility.

Pressure builds
small barbs hit flesh
am I blameworthy?
But wait—let me stop and see
your narcissism truthfully.

Stand on your feet,
find inner peace,
not blaming and self-pity.
Recognise my battle lost;
take your responsibility.

Find your equanimity  —
and
liberate me.
.

Late night texts
Sleepy eyes
Small smiles
Butterflies

Stolen moments
Held inside
Beating heart
Stupefied

~

Left alone
Tear filled eyes
Chapped lips
Scarred thighs

Empty promises
Cast aside
Broken heart
Terrified

~j.l.

Your hair, its softness makes my heart palpitate rapidly;
Your face, its lineaments leave me in the wonder of their rarity;
Your eyes, I can stare open-mouthed into them unweariedly;
Your lips, I wish I can kiss them constantly;
Your hands, I wish I can entwine them with mine eternally.
Your mind, it captures me on every occasion thoroughly;
Your soul, I can love it everlastingly;
Your heart, it belongs only to me, solely;
O, my inamorata! Feelings of you will never be dreary.