smoke fills his lungs and clings
to his jacket, mixing scents--
his cologne, wet grass,
the lotion on her hands,
their hearts.
in an uneven dance, riddled
with missteps, miscommunication,
missed opportunity.
they can't bear to be bare,
but there they are.

it was plucked from his eyes, his heart,
and the sheer wonder that left them,
stunned.

some cacophonous reverie,
a discordant daydream, pure wants and hopes,
and loves and laughs-- all faded.

what eclectic energy there was in them,
some flicker of familiarity and warmth--
led to a slow, burning descent into some place
he might call home soon.

the hearth embraces truth,
and ends it.
searing corners, ashen smiles,
traversing time by burning
in the opposite direction.
slowly, at times, yet infinite.
we forget to preserve emotion,
as the rest of us are dead
or nearly there.

hiding behind false bravado
and an epoch of shame
twists uncertainty,
anger, and stubbornness.
this wasn't going to be a long
one but it was there to say hello.

poems are my escape
into worlds where sense
is measured in meter and rhyme,
and the undercurrent of meaning.
i make regrettable decisions
and excise those
that meant me well
in exchange for a pain
less familiar.
i would apologize,
but pride dictates
i stand my ground
and put pen to paper
instead.

Night stirs, stars surging
in the hushed & vigorous
darkness.
That void, ambient
in its design, holds artistry
and grace. Stars burst through veil
and shadow,
highlighting an ebony spire,
whose apex threatens
with beauty beyond
comprehension.
Their juxtaposition, a dance,
of heat and light and dark.

My sunlight burgeons,
burns, brightens, sears, and sees all.
I'm the son of light.