Tell me why you look so hard,
And want to delve within?
The heart of a human being,
That's filled with only sin?

Why you feel you want to save,
And make a bad man right?
When for so long... he's been so wrong,
And his soul is black as night?

Why do you never turn your back,
And walk swiftly away?
From one who has ignored you,
Yet once again..today?

Why would you bother fixing,
An old spirit to make it new?
I know I can never understand,
But I am so glad that you do.

Is it wrong to say I miss you
Is it wrong to tell you so
To tell you that I think of you
Everywhere I go

To tell you I can see you
every time I close my eyes
Why pretend that things are different
theres no point in telling lies

Sometimes I think I hear your voice
like a whisper on the breeze
and still it sounds like music
and brings me to my knees

And as I kneel beneath the sky
wrapped in silent prayer
I ask that all my lives to come
with you I get to share

Am I someones "one that got away"?
Do I keep them awake at night,
with regrets that thing's weren't different,
that they'd not given up the fight?

Is there someone there that thinks of me,
on those damp depressing days,
that makes them smile out the window,
chasing their blahs away?

Do they search for me on Facebook,
have they Googled me at all?
Do they see me here with nothing,
or do they think I have it all?

I guess for sure I'll never know,
if they don't or if they do.
Kinda makes you wonder though,
does someone do that for you?

she will always begin with a pause,
her eyebrows will lift the wrinkles of her forehead,

exhale.
sharp stare.

she will always open with some battered phrase,
something to the effect of "we need to talk" or
"is something wrong?"

i slide a sigh.
roll my eyes
off to the
distant side.

she will always hope the drama of the event
will scare me into a newfound commitment,
it did the first few tries.

look to her play-tears.
read them like a teleprompter.

she will always use *** as the scapegoat,
condemning me for my high crimes,
my dwindling light of real integrity.

read her my
polished response.

she will cry for the remainder of her waking state,
we'll open our eyes only to find,
ourselves tangled in one another,
sweaty from the weighty night.
she won't be crying.
and we'll be in love again.

over and over and over
and over and over and
over and over and over
             again.

My mind blazes with an inferno of music.

Notes created to play

Point, counter-point, one to another,

To flame into blazing fury.



Tiny tinkling notes crash

To low sonorous tones.

Metallic vibrations lead to

Unearthly bursts of melancholy discord.



Not for the pretentious musician

But for the appreciative of symphonic quality

Such that would ignite a Phoenix.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

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.

It's late and I'm tired
But I can't go to sleep

There's too much to do
Too much I haven't told you
Too much I want to hear
Too much to listen to
Too little to waste

There are adventures
not yet experienced
There are voices
unheard
There are thoughts
unvoiced
There are songs
unwritten
There are kisses
unfelt

And I have adventures to experience
And I have voices to hear
And I have thoughts to voice
And I have songs to write
And I have kisses to feel

And I have you.

Oh, you.

Who are you?
I certainly haven't found you yet
Actually, I thought I had, but you went away
Now I fear I will never see you again

Oh, you.

You with your saddened eyes
You who have endured so much
You who deserve so much more
You who I try to help but
You who shy away to
You who are gone.
gone.

gone.

It does not make my thoughts any clearer
It does not make me feel any better
It does not make my eyes any drier
to write.

But it does help the sunshine keep a little longer
It does let your kisses linger in the shade
It does help my weary head resurrect
The light from whence we came

And I know that someday you will return
And I won't let you slip down down again
And my time awake is time well spent
So I cannot sleep.

I cannot sleep.

Everything will be alright for you
Because it should be
And for us

I promise. Hold me to it.

You are a beautiful person. Remember our discussion of the word?
On all accounts
Please don't forget that.