sometimes she would stand in my doorway
bright blue lace ******* that she knew were my favourite
and a little white shirt that was just a bit too small.

she'd enter my room ever so gently, after brushing her teeth in the morning
and pass me a stick of gum
to sweeten the taste of red wine and beer from the night before.

she would stand there in the doorway, with the cutest smirk on her dimpled cheek
and give her ***** a shake

as if to say
"yeah I'm cute, but how do you like me now?"

(she was always watching in the mirror anyway)

i would lay there and smile, and extend my reach
as she lightly pounced into my arms, and my bed

as if to say
"welcome home, sweetheart."
even though we'd just spent the night drunkenly dreaming

and warming each other's souls.

she would rest there smiling as i looked down from above
and tucked her hair behind her ears

i would kiss her 3 times;  on her third-eye and on her crown.

once because i loved her.
and twice more in case she didn't feel it the first time.

some days there was a look of wonder
an unknown amazement shining from her eyes

a look so indescribable, i can't help but think she wasn't real

couldn't have been real

but here she was beneath me.

staring up at me, as if i had the power to magically whisk us away, to a far away place

and here i am, convincing myself she wasn't real.

this is why i can't have nice things.

i have visions of you sleeping well
in a dim-lit room, half-furnished house
these visions once told me you were alone, and cold
and this house... it wasn't a home

i had visions of you dreaming of me
longing for the few days, in which you return to me
sleeping on a mattress is never of ease
but not so bad when you have loving to look forward to

now here in my sleepless cavern those visions have changed
i still see you dreaming in sweet peace
but with another's arms wrapped around you
and this house is more furnished than i had thought

i no longer have visions of you coming home
with a smile on your face, and sweet treats in your hands
heart shaped budds and the sweetest finger hash
are no longer gifts, but regular occurrences

not since you told me, the way you think of me has changed
it's no longer good thoughts about our psychedelic whirlwind of a journey
but of the times we went awry

i'll never know what happened for those 3 days after we spent the night
i hope your phone died and wish that was the whole story
but these visions of you sleeping in a more-furnished house

make me think that house is now more of a home.

It's a time out I seek,
too many words and poems
read and said,
Too many feelings flow
through my head,
I'm dizzy with it,
Not at all fed up,
That's something else again.

I love my HP friends,
The exchanges,
The encouragement.
The world of computer companionship,
The joy of all the written words.

Yet for now as to this,
Our shared passion,
I do for a time relent.

Pay more attention
to my woman and kids,
Take the dogs for a walk
down by the river bridge.
Seek some sun
and hurry the Spring.
Shoot some photographs,
That do so please.
Rest assured I shall return.

So good friends for a time,
if I do not reply,
That would be the reason why.
Not sick, not dead, just resting.

At the end of the day
at least i tried
i'm more than okay
i gave it a shot
and maybe i missed my target
but what was i aiming for?i forgot
and everything will be alright
i will  let this  go
i will let you go
now it's over
i'm finally done
and it's hard to decide if
my battle was won
but now it's over
it's a little bittersweet
i'll have to find a new path
for my wandering feet.

An online Poetry Site is like taking a Lover.
At first everything is new and exciting,
Our juices are flowing.
Our heart beats a little faster,
Endorphins abounding.
We romance and court her,
Our best foot forward,
Play to our strengths,
Beat on our chests,
Try to avoid foolish mistakes.

We get drawn in,
Dazzled by the allure of her attention.
We become intimate,
Embrace her charms,
Confide our inner most Secrets,
Whisper unashamedly our Fears.
But she can be fickle, change her mind,
Love us one minute, ignore us the next.
We invite her to judge us,
Then we resent the results.
We fight and withdraw, vowing to quite,
Then find that we are caught in the web,
And can’t follow through.

She commands far too much of our time,
We can even become obsessed, knowing
That we should back off, if only we could.
We begin to resent the time we spend with her,
And yet cannot get through a day without checking in.
In spite of our protests, when gone, we miss her.

So we nearly abandon old friends and family,
Preferring her company instead.
Lose needed sleep to stay up past three,
Just to hold her hand.
Hanging as we do,
On her every word.
Forget to mow the lawn,
Or wash the dishes.
Enthralled and distracted.
Neglect to shower,
Remain all day in Pajamas.

It’s a romance of words on a screen,
Not a living, breathing thing,
But even with this knowledge,
We can’t let her go.
Can’t leave it alone.
I know, because I have tried and failed.
And here I still remain,
Caught like an animal in a trap.
Or is it, a fat happy bird in a gilded cage?
Who would not know where else to go,
Even if the door were left open.

I am conflicted to say the least.
No doubt my need for self-expression,
Is stronger than my need for cessation.

We love what we do,
And do what we love
And **** the consequences.
The good part is, as far as I know,
No one ever got a social disease,
From Words on a computer screen.

It’s always the same,
Hiding in that pitch dark room,
Like a terrified animal on the floor.
Heart pounding as if to leap from
my chest.
It always starts the same way,
Always . . . every time.

Up through the glass,
bright as a night sun,
The full moon stands suspended,
Big and gold, looking like the face of man.
Is it God I wonder?
Is that him looking down,
Watching me, cowering here?
In this black-as-a-cave room,
On my hands and knees,
Teeth chattering, ******* myself,
Fearful beyond all reason?

I crawl away from the window,
Deeper into the blackness of the kitchen.
Brushing past the woodstove,
still hot from that night’s fire,
Inching on my belly towards the corner table,
Its massive covered pedestal my remote destination,
My safe harbor,
My child’s imagined salvation.

Powerful angry footsteps,
Naked feet slapping pine wood floors,
Coming fast, their rhythmic thump echoing,
With evil resolve and harmful intent.
He’s coming, coming again for me!
I tuck myself up under the big table,
Wrap my arms tight around the oaken tower,
Jam my bare feet under one of the table’s claw feet.
And dig in!

Looking back at the window
and the bright face in the air,
I silently prey, yet scream it inside my head,
“God if that is you looking down through
That window, do something. . . Help me!”

He’s inside the room.  
I can hear him breathing hard,
Even smell his vile stench.
Tobacco stink, whiskey and death.
He’s close now.

The metallic swish and trailing sparks
of a sulfur match hastily struck on stove top,
Produce a near blinding flare.
A single wooden taper ignites a flame,
Extinguishing the darkness,
Of my enveloping cloak of fleeting invisibility.

The devil sees me now,
Knows where I hide!
His massive, claw-like hand reaches down towards me.
I tighten my grip on the table and tense my body.
Closing my eyes, I open my mouth to scream!

It’s always this way, always . . . every time.