Up above the sky,
And then back to my heart,
There is not a thing,
Which can ever fix my heart,

Deep into the ocean,
And then back to your cruel mind,
There is nothing - just nothing
Which can ever be less kind,

But today when I smile,
It's all because of you,
For a thousand years and more,
Darling, I have loved you.

You are
a work of art;
there is music
in your footsteps,
and melodies
in your voice.
This once
insipid world
is now
full
of colors.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you paint
the skies cerulean,
the curtains green,
the windows red?
In my sorrow
you put a finger
to these lips
as if to say
‘Let us not talk
about sad things’,
then you and I
would speak
about
the goodness
in everything.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you teach
these lips
to express
the miracles
of life,
laughter,
and love?
You had a
gentleness
about those
around you
like you knew
everyone
was fighting
their own battles,
everyone was worth it.
Compassion should
be given where it
is needed.
Did you lend a
hand with that?
Did you show
me when to
give somebody
a shoulder to cry on,
a hand to hold,
a kiss g'night?
Darling,
how I miss you so.
Everything has changed
-even you and I-
but perhaps
you are
all of the
loveliness
that I have written
-and will ever write about-
from the very beginning.
And I
just
couldn’t
grasp you
clearly.
How I
hear,
see,
think,
and feel
are all
different now.
Did you lend
a hand with that?

~*D.C.

The problem is
He continues to write
His love to the world
With grey shades
And let me read
A piece of his
Finished writing
—His love for me
In red blood ink
That turned into toxin
For my sight
And I keep reading
What he wrote
Until I bawl
Even when I knew
The story has ended

Fire and ice met at last
With so much longing,
They gave their all
The coldness burns
And the flicker dies
Such phenomenon
Can't be permitted
As much as they want to
To touch is to stab
To love is to ****
A second of togetherness
Is the death of their will