I have searched for love
in all the wrong places.
Getting the brunt of someone's
dark seeded issues:

Smacks by hand across face.
Judgmental insults to open wounds.
Forced advances of drunk-in body
as one laid motionless.

I have searched for love
in all the wrong places.
Experiencing heart ache every time
I turned around.

Bars that drowned out hearts song.
Drinking too much to hide the loneliness.
A husband who only cared about himself

I have searched for love
in all the wrong places.
Until hopelessness hit a peak and
I was forced to see before it was too late.

I was looking for love
in all the wrong places.
The place was right here all along


The place inside my own heart,
A place I learned to love myself.
The place I’m never alone
so I Now spread my wings
and fly in my own power.
Freedom at last.

death poems are honest
no hiding the truth
a shared sure path for the living

Two in the night isn't the right time
to be watched over by two eyes in silence
occasionally broken by a hushed voice
pack up sir, madam must be waiting sleepless.

Three in the night and he was right beside me
while the weary moon slanted to west
and dead insects lay on the floor
burned out by the joy of light.

Four in the night he was escorting me home
half a mile up the hill
when the stars were shedding light
fading with the dying night.

He died sometime after I left the island.

On sleepless nights he's there to see me off.
He could never be dead in my head.

after the last time I made the foolish mistake of believing that everyone has good intentions
I promised myself I wouldn't trust anyone again
but, you see
the thing is that I didn't have to.
there's something about those eyes that reminds me of the way mother nature lovingly replenishes the earth's soil with rain.
and the first time I saw them, I knew I didn't have the option of loving you.
upon meeting you, I immediately fell in love with you.
trust me, I curse at myself every time I sleepily type "I love you more" at 1 a.m. when we're both too **** stubborn to close our eyes and drift off. but, for once, a large part of me believes that you'll stay.

trapped within your vocabulary
imagination is the door
to freedom

Classroom, you have gone through much
witness of devotion and inspiration,
of boredom and slumber;
partner to the late learner and early comers;
have experienced a stream of personalities;

Classroom, you have gone through much
unliving witness to adult's birth, growt and depraving;
lifeless room filled with feelings:
that of the boy, thinking he loves,
that of the girl, who shares not that love,
that of the two, hoping it will last,
those of the students, who leave with hope;

Classroom, you sure have gone through much
victim of time, witness of fights;
have observed chaos and intense silence;
your walls reveal our will to be remembered;
Classroom, realm of memories and shadows of the past.

The wind howls as it hits the sheets
A face is hidden that I can't see
A light cold drizzle opens up slowly
Teasing and boiling
The storm drapes over the pillars
Nothing I can see
Fully engulfed as my legs become weak
Paralysis penetrates my body
The wind howls dampen
The pillars descend at rest