Poetry is the
private musings of the soul;
the songs of the heart.

Black Widow

I pity the fool
that falls in love with me.

I'm sorry you got tangled in my web.
Yes, I cast it,
and I was looking for you.

And now I'm just going to collect you
like the others.
Store you for now.
Devour you later.

And then I'll start over.
Move on.
Cast a new web.
Find the next one.

Watch for me,
carefully now.
Watch for me in the shadows.

This is what
I feel for you.
I love your smile, but
I hate your grin.
I love the sin
you involve me in.

I hate your snide
remarks.
I love our
insignificant talks.

I love you.
I hate you.

So here we are.
Stasis.

Love, hate, love.

...but instead, we chose to be lovers,
and that
was the beginning of our end.
Laughter
turned to bitter tears
and cruel words.
The comradery so quickly
became incompatibility.
What was once so fruitful
became barren.
Desolate.
And so we both went our own ways,
lonely and hurt.
Searching.
What fools to attempt such a thing
when
we could have just been
friends.

Gentle giant.
I sit in the oasis of your shade.
I peel your bark, and
it is like skin.
Transparent.
I rub your skin between my fingertips and feel calm;
I feel your energy.  
You are a healing tree.
When I sit in your shade,
I feel peace and contentment.
However, your song is one of despair,
and so sometimes,
when I sit beneath your limbs,
I lament.
I hurt and I feel
for all things that have passed.