The moon peeps out and she's just about home,
the day was so long without her,
on the phone, she'd said, 'soon',
but that was ages ago.

I watch the clock watching me
watch the clock and
she'll be
home soon.

She might blow away
she's so light and
it's windy,
it was windy earlier today
I didn't worry then
wasn't waiting then
when she was
indoors,
chores,
you know.

Watching the watch
clocking the clock watching the clock clocking me,
she'll be home soon
the moon winks
the key in the lock turns and
I blink
my eyes.

Formed in the furnace
of colliding matter,
from colorful dust we arose.
Our journey is timeless
and complex to the core.
Yet we bravely stand bold,
as we venture into the unknown.
Gifted with love and given
strength by connections.
Our Existence in itself,
a miracle to behold.

you feel like worn silk sheets

like home.

i see you
formulate in the sky,
until a permanent cloud remains,
for all to see.

You settle in a montaged dream sequence,
a sweeping sentiment of sweet innocence;
in the equilibrium of your natural habitat.

Just a rain clouds tears away.

A utopian notion,
broken reluctance inspired by emotions.
A colloquial calmness
confronts the surface,
we burrow
down,
deeper,
for the winter in preparation of the hibernate soul;

The harsh cold paradise takes toil into the parable.
In the midst of Nirvana with a frozen heart.
A lake remains.
The tears turn to rain and solidify likes scars.
The reign is over,

You melt into my arms.

It was here
And then it was gone
And suddenly we had both moved on
And it happened so fast
Sometimes I still can't believe
We haven't spoken in months
And there are still pieces of me
That belong to you

I am in love with someone else
My dreams is eternity with them
But there are thing he doesn't understand
That  I didn't even have to tell you

I just don't get it
And I want to let go
But every time we spoke
It was like poetry

It was always about deepest thoughts
And biggest secrets
And failings
And winnings
And parrots
And  maple syrup tattoos

I miss you
As my friend
And I'm always sad
When things like us come to an end
Goodbye to the happy birthday poems
And discussing strange art
Goodbye to hand made buttons
And mini rose plants
Goodbye to my wool sock of a friend

Life
is
clip art and
badly drawn
in most cases

Raising is a feeling
I've never felt before
Not one of love
But one of gore.

I can feel it bubbling
From deep inside my chest
An aching need to *****
To give myself a rest.

I know it wouldn't help much
Problems would still be there
But maybe if I focused
I'd stop focusing on despair.