At least it was springtime
I whisper to myself as he eases into the unknown
Such a strong man, a quiet man
My grandfather no longer suffering
Another gentle soul these hands have helped
Continue on this journey of "being"
No longer human
Scattered amongst the in between
You are loved
You will be missed
Rest in Peace

Rough edges shape their calluses to my own
We bite softly at first
Tasting shadowed limitations
Deeper flavors blossom wet and dark along thirsty tongues
I need closer
To render you tearful, speechless
Peel back each layer then climb inside
Saturating my parched surface
With the dewy fabric of your subconscious mind
Ebony pupils widen into the spalunking expanse of my own
I could explore your depths for a lifetime
I would still be left wanting

I feel you in subtle trickles
At times a deluge
Words fall not on deaf ears
Just softly
The push and pull is palpable
Silky surfaces greeting imagined rough hands
You are used to dirt beneath their edges
Both are carried by the sounds of little feet behind us
Echoing the future of our old age
Trepidation lingers in the air between our breaths
If only we were more like moon shine
Straight forward
Less like skittish ponies

Today I cannot write,
my soul crawling in  misery
I have a lump in my throat
and all I can do is fight the wish
to cut it out.

At the end of my fingertips
the words are dying
as I touch them with my red nails
and in my mind I am slowly realising
that the world is not the place
where I belong.

I'm a misfit,
a creep ,
my ugliness  building walls in my soul,
my eyes are bleeding,
while in my heart I am still wondering
whether I deserve to be loved.

upon myself the sky cries
icy teardrops
cracking up my brain
my skin hurts
and in my soul
the answer to my question is a big NO.

*No, love will never find its road towards my soul.