Sometimes beneath close eyelids
I quest to bring you back
As if you were driftwood floating
Downstream on your back.
I dip my hands beneath the veil
And dry away the death
And from my parting, weeping lips
I give you back your breath-
Just like the rising sunset burning
In the summer sky
Paints and saints the mountaintops
And casts their colors bright.



Unrhymed Notes:

Sometimes I dream I can bring you back
Just as simply as dipping my hands into the water
To retrieve a floating piece of driftwood;
Dry the death from your skin
And breath life back into you
The way the sunrise reanimates
The Dark Mountains
Each and every day.

I see your Ocean eyes open
Embrace you like I'm trying to
Fold you into my skin
Where I can keep you always
And feel your summer peach warm flesh
Tangible against my permafrost fingers.

If the dead could talk
Nothing profound would leave your lips
They'd only quirk into a Cheshire smile
And you'd tell me to let go
Relinquish
Move along and stop standing still
Life is for the Living
Death is for the dead
And dreams are for the foolish.

"You *******."

I need to write
you a love poem.
Not with
chocolates and roses.
But with firey passions
and intensity.

So intense you
Will need to sit down
as you read it.
So strong it burns
with passions you crave.
Causing your face to blush
In secret sinful thoughts.
Thoughts that slow
the time to a crawl
Before you will
share your bed
with me once more.

Words that tear
at your clothes
like an ardent lover.
Words that will
leave us as naked
as newborns.
Burning in fires
that are as
old as time itself.

You will be standing
at the edge
of a pit of flame
so dangerous we will
hold each other
in hard embrace.
So that we do not
fall into its
raging inferno.

Full of life
the fire surged through the glade
hips swayed, lips splayed
pushing up leaves and leaving
a smile that found a better home
at forty than at twenty

those castaway eyes
glistened with hopes
two Lost might cling to,
broken flotsam
on the heaving chests
of hurt youth

We met our end,
eyes shut as tightly
as a loving mothers tuck,
burnt in the glade

I **** at poetry,
But I'm an expert at being me
It took years of reflection ever since the *****
But finally...
Now I look from inside
Now I laugh when I cry
Tears that remind me I'm alive
Write carefully...
That's what they tell me to
The voices in my head and the sensei's of the pen
For fear of breaking rules established by who?
well see I don't care, then I ask them
Do you laugh in tune?
Do you cry in tune?
With the gold received from the silence of thoughts
My soul buys the mightiest pen to go to me
Just so I can jot,
I really **** at poetry

Can you believe it!
I'm in your head, you are reading my very thoughts
Somehow my energy has crossed paths, with you
This isn't a theory you seeing this is proof, its true
Imagine the power in this connection
from fingers on a keyboard
to affecting a reality
close or far from me
Imagine if we used this power for love
We could all be one...
haha let me stop getting sappy
And just enjoy the connection we made and be happy :)

We feel better when the sky owns up to the bleakness of the world; it turns grey and endless and it cries with us. We hide from the sun because it warms our skin and lies about a better tomorrow. Ice bites our noses and rattles our teeth- it makes us feel alive but it too, is swallowed by the warmth we have taught ourselves to hate. We are fighting for happiness but waiting for the warmth and the flush and the laughter to end, that we might envelope ourselves once more in our depression, anxiety and pain.
But I am tired of my cocoon of misery; this atmosphere filled with the sensation of waiting for rain. You three are my best friends. I have made an astonishing number of mistakes in my life but loving you is not one of them.

So I will wait for rain with you.

**And I will revel in the sun when you find it.