This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

I lost interest in words
I lost it suddenly when
A thousand syllables
You accidentally spilled
Felt like a midnight forest
Loud and confusing
A little dangerous
And much unintended
Yet the intension spoke
Loud and clear
When the words
Selected to be spoken
Bid a bitter farewell

The Advent message
repeated over centuries:
Waiting in time for
fulfillment and peace..
What will happen
with the recognition
that time is a construct
a convenient line
appearing in Mind..?
To recognize that
illusory time disguises
and demands attention
as the framework for
history and lives..?
The lifetime discovery:
to recognize that
here and now resides
fulfillment and peace:
There is no wait...!

SWEETHEART,

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE CURE.

AND

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE DISEASE.