Every picture found
Every memory had
Every smile that was seen,
Has melted into dishonest wax.
Every tear;
Is one of those
Pictures, or memories, or smiles,
Burning down and melding
Into something,
Unrecognizable
To the candle lover.
When all the tears
Stop,
The past will vanish.
And all that will remain,
Is a mis-constructed wax figure,
That no longer recognizes
His face nor his footprint.

They bless the rings
Then say “kiss the bride.”
Smile out of the church,
With sun beams filtered.
Trusting your hand
To a stranger in shiny shoes
And neatly combed hair.
Heart thrown to the wolves,
In return for weightless,
Messy-haired affection.

Sitting at her desk
The quill to the paper.
She wrote viscously,
As she was urged.
Drip,
Of blood fell from her nostril.
Every once in while
A high pitched shrill
Could be heard from the hall.
A small area of the window pane
Was not covered by drape.
Peering out, a porcelain girl
Was there.
Dancing.
In the sun, as if she was the leader
Of the orchestra.
Writing as she bled,
She glared through the minute hole,
Mesmerized by the movement.
--Freedom of body.
The blood poured now,
Like a stream.
Wiping it on her dark sleeve,
She continued;
Blurry-eyed now.
As the dancer leaped to her partner,
The pen-slave collapsed on the pad.
Her quill continued by her spirit,
and captured each detail of the dance.

Melting to my seat
Staring at a screen
Brain cells exploding in misery
Prefer to set this building of articles on fire
Are actual paperbacks even read?
Obsolete weapon in the war of cyber knowledge
Forced to memorize words,
Lines of straight and curved little designs
That are supposedly the key
To intellectual increase.
So, please gently place the grenade
Upon my head,
As to not alter their silence.

Green & yellow splatters
On a white canvas
A shape never seen before
A splash, perhaps
Green grabs yellow
Quick run through the woods
Twirl and fly through the unadulterated purity
Movements so quick and fearless; yellow falls
Onto green.
So close, instinct takes over
Rolling through the flora
Never has this enjoyment come to fruition
A game leading to passion
As lime stands up
And adjusts his collar,
Back to the tan canvas.

Dart through the forest hair
Pursue till lungs give out
Sun stabbing through the unidentical branches
Clothes following an elated body’s lead
Green smells of warm air encircle
Unfamiliar perfection
Glowing back, resonating sun-light
A ricocheted laser to the brow
Legs slow to allow the brain to combine facts to form ideas
An individual matching in appearance becomes apparent
A lift of the right arm causes a lift of their left
Forward movements, an outstretched extremity receives tangible results
Reflecting wall surrounds the terrain for all that is visible

I have to stop looking at your pictures
And staring at your crooked smile.
Remember to forget your number
And lashes that went on for miles.
Your shy look, when you wanted a little more
Undressed, and took my body on a tour.
Guess the long drive was just too much for you
The last kiss I gave, must have given you the flu.