Yesterday I was blue
Today I am yellow
She was orange
So very mellow

Their bodies were green
Faces of blue
They watched as we kissed
While they only wished

Do you remember what God said to you child?
When you were conceived?
Before your parents knew...

I remember now, he whispered. His voice sounding of the forceful ocean,
But as nectarous and consoling as a summer breeze
*Be love child, BE love.

It reflected in his eyes,
The demons he tried to hide.
Heart caged by barbed ribs,
To keep his demons out of reach.
He danced with angels of darkness;
A waltz of his tormenting past.
Until came she....
Washed away his soul with serenity.
His broken heart healed,
Along with a newfound emotion,
No longer was it filled with abhor or venom.
The sound of her heart could conceal his demons,
But hidden deep, a small part remained.
The shadows of his past would not fade away,
She tried to wash his sins,
But it was not in her will to decide,
He pushed her away and,
The only thing that remained,
Were the fading teardrops on his doorway.

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.