Writing isn't really my thing.

It never has been and I don't think it ever will be.

But god **** I could write a book about all the things I love about you.

All these fragments of life,
My own piece fits no puzzle;
All these fragments of life,
My dreams the angels muzzle.

All these fragments of life,
I am fading now into shadow;
All these fragments of life,
And nothing more is hallow.

All these fragments of life,
No more thought, no opinion;
All these fragments of life,
Only moving toward oblivion.

All these fragments of life,
No more sound, only silence;
All these fragments of life,
No more sight or other sense.

All these fragments of life,
My shard of the cross fell;
All these fragments of life,
Along the nether sea I sail.

All these fragments of life,
Mine, none belong to me;
All these fragments of life,
Mine belonging not to any;
All these fragments of life,
Now I am a faded memory.

Chasing a shadow
Creeping among flooded words
Teleporting, gone.

I lost my days,
gained in years
What if old?

this can't happen anymore
these twisted games you play
that i slowly let you win

the side glances, the hand-holding
all the flirting
it leaves me wondering if we could be
good together again, but i know we couldn't

here's the messed-up part of it all
i know that you mean so much more to me
than i do to you
it leaves me torn, while you walk away, again

There are always new places
For our feet, always
Another,
Wearing out the shoes,
The veins, and soles.
I learned to love the world
From your waist down.
There is no end for travel.

We travel and travel more.
The buses fill, the jeepneys,
And the planes. The trains fill,
Terribly fill. Boracay fills.
And what a tedious postcard
This is,

When the whole point
Of the matter is this: that
We are bound, headed, destined
To someplace else,
Boundless, vast
And everlasting--
A non-lifetime--

Which pretty much answers
Why love does not return.
I think that love could,
But must not return.
And I will carry you on,
You,
On my back,
Just to prove it.*

© 2014 J.S.P.