The touch of your hand
Upon the small of my back
Is all that I need.

I pick up the pen
and I write
because I need
to bleed my emotions
on paper and sometimes I
write
just for the hell of it and sometimes
I write because I just need
to talk to someone anyone
I just need to talk.

And so dark and
quiet here
There’s nothing
but the muted sound
of one single
snowflake
dropping and then
another and
another
and
another.

I get bundled up
and I fall  into the snow
And I make angels.

Why did you leave
when things were just getting interesting?
Ha. Ok. Seriously
Why did you leave me? Why?
What got to you  
and took you away
from me?
What darkness
pulled at you
that was stronger
than everything
every thing I gave you
offered you
why, why
Why?
It’s
so
Empty here.
So
Quiet.
I
Miss
You.  
Dearly.

Step Outside

And the air is crisp and cool and the wind is weak and warm like me.
Like me.
It’s the Fall.
Autumn.
The Fall   Oh
it just so like me
I’m always falling.
Falling.
Down but hey
Isn’t this the way?
One season
Gives into the next?
We live and die and do it
all over again.

Everything

Is not as it seems or
As it should be in my mind
in my simple mind I just see
black and white and
barely grey and hey.
Take a minute.
Step outside of your day, your life and look around.
Look around.
Are things ok?
Are we moving this world forward?
Hell no.
My God. The woods are burning
and everything s falling apart.
Falling
apart.