I watch the sea crash onto the sand at sunset,
the orange tinted blue never leaving their blue hued brown for just a second,

our eyes never changing directions.

The blue bleeds into the brown,

fading unnoticed into this connection.

May the day ever come,
we see blue and brown part,
so will vanish everything else along with them,

laying their fate in the stars.

I hate the first few minutes of waking up.
It feels like I've been tricked.
Conned.
Duped.
My escape thwarted.

here i am
holding on
to relics of your love
after all
i was born
to be on my knees
in worship,
searching for salvation
devoting my life
to the scent
of your skin
the trace of your fingers
the memory
of your mouth on mine
and i know now
i would face
all nine levels of hell
just to hear
my name leave your lips
as feverant as prayer
once more.

My niece
made me bangle
of letters, stars, unicorns|
and colored beads

Then it hit me
that's her poem to me
a set of random things
that sit beautifully
side by side
around in a circle

and I noticed that
that's the first time
someone wrote
a poem
about
me

It frustrates me that I’m sitting here,
Staring at a blank page.
For I feel so much.
And I have so much to write,
On this empty page.
I have seen enough to write an endless novel.
So why is my page empty?
Not full of wooded trails.
Or life's many tales.
Not even the sympathies,
Of my many brothers,
And many sisters.
My page is empty,
Alas, the poet’s dying shame.