It's funny -
A loveless sees more love;
A blind feels more beauty;
A mute thinks more words;
But not have what it takes.

Like a poem -
A line gives more than a sentence;
A word means more than itself;
An inanimate object represents the animate;
But isn't read the way it was written.

That is the beauty
Of life,
Of a poem,
Of every creation -
What's not given has more use;
What's lost has a purpose of absence.

My fingers reached for the tip.
As my lips hugged it,
You were at the back of my mind
Then I inhaled to the fullest.
I held every cloud as long as I could
So at the back you'd linger
Never to bother what's ahead.
Until I was at the brink of suffocating,
Until I needed to breathe,
I had to exhale and knew, as I wanted,
To let go every memory of you.
But as I did, I had no intention
Of letting a part of me drift with you.
I was able to smoke you out
With red droplets of me
Sinking through the earth.

Heavy chested, I deeply breathe
While your mindless head, underneath
The thin heft-caressing blanket,
Leaned on my darned ardor's socket.

My arch-arm dwindled of its blood
Vainly wraps your young, fragile bud.
As my other fondled your hair,
I released what I couldn't bear.

The sheets only had your form's print.
My chest heavy only with lint.
My arm only braced my own head.
Alone at one side of the bed.

The sea ached as his waves crashed
at the barricaded shore, relentlessly
beating himself time and time again.
Not knowing when to stop,
he bellowed loudly every night
to the thunderous sky;
just to see the light again;
for that one moment of bliss.
His prayers heard, the oceans lit up;
in an instant darkness shrouded him.
A glimpse only fueled his pain.