Falling in love is unforgivable
it gives you heart attack
makes you feel complete
at the same time, incomplete.

Falling in love is staying
making yourself clingy
believing that it will lasts
though at some point, it hurts.

Falling in love is a sacrifice
you have to be strong,
to fight for your will
and to firmly stand when disaster comes.

Falling in love is cure
it will heal every broken heart,
makes you accept everything that happens
and letting you be free, and continue.

You are silent storms
in balmy summers,
and I am a drizzle
rushing down to
embrace the
tepid earth.

You are
steady hands on
a keyboard and I am
haphazard syllables
splattered on pages.

You are knowing nods,
I am half-laughed
arguments.You
are the stillness
of the sky,
and I,
the
rippling river.

You are the
strength of knowing
what colours are willing
to listen to, and I am the
unexpected blooming riots of paint.

You are red evening skies,
and I am three and a
half lonely stars
- a heart, a soul, a mind,
and whatever lies in between.

You are the changing of the seasons,
and I am a foreign wind on
your skin. We are both
autumn, and what
it feels like
to fall.

What makes you think I like to fight?
Oh yes I love to waste my life.
You can't leave well enough alone.
The two of us create war zones.

My line, your line, the line.
We have crossed it. We have lost it.
Your line, my line, the line.
We just passed it. No point in backing.
If hell on earth were near.
It'd run away in fear.
The line, the line, the line.
We just crossed it. We have passed it.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I never really felt so...unusual with you before.
Even though I say I hate you...i could use your arguments some more and more its that rage I adore.
In your eyes.
I see the fire slowly burning.
And those souls slowly roasting.
Now my heart is quickly beating.
Is this terror?
Or anticipation?
This feeling I'll never lose.
It's something about you.
You hate what we've become.
Sorry whats done is done.

“Why, then, God’s soldier be he.”

-Shakespeare

“I’m Old Man Briggs,” he laughed, shaking my hand
That famous merry twinkle in his eye;
He made the table at the ******* Barrel
A festival of right good fellowship

But even as the plates were passed around
And with them too the happy banter of men
He sometimes seemed to drift away in thought
Into the past, into the mists, into -

His boyhood bayous, and the fields of youth
The desperation of Depression years
And still a boy, on the shingle at Normandy
Fighting across the smoky fields of France

Then home again to build the peace for us
With muscle and sweat, and with love and thought
Citizen-soldier, happy raconteur -
“I’m Old Man Briggs,” he laughed, shaking our hands

His place is empty now, just a little while
For we will see him again, at Supper

Hands poised on the keyboard of my mind,
Two people speak to me
Two different ways to live your life,
Too different to listen to at the same time.
Mind blown,
Not everyone knows they'll land on a good state of mind.
Most find, they are falling into the rhythm of deadly pursuit,
Hands shaking with words, lips pursed
For a rhyme that I believe in with every tendon I chose to use
Like comprehending your memories in the present
Sublime.
But I'm afraid,
That I won't make it with just blood, sweat, and tears.
Realization will come with facing my fears.
This games been won before, often overplayed.
A daydream I control,
A nightmare I do not,
Slightly shaking, faking confidence in my own thoughts,
Two people speak to me
One in truth and one,
Truthfully.
There are two sides to every story.
One lies,
And one would for me....