you are my muse,
the reason I am who I am.
you are my inspiration, the love I put into
the music I create, the words I write that pour
from every corner of my mind and soak onto paper.
you are the soul that has wrapped itself around mine
and will not let go, you have given me the love of my life,
you have brought what I was destined to do for the rest of my life
to light and I have to thank you every time I think of it.
you are my muse, my love.
you are the one who created the love in my heart,
the passion in my soul.
you made me feel something that most people cant imagine,
that most people think doesnt exist and cant fathom.
you are my muse,
my inspiration and power.
you are what keeps me going,
what keeps me moving toward my dream
because of your influence.
I love you, truly, I am in love with you.

How do you describe love?
Besides what the standard idea is.
With nothing more to say than "she makes my heart race".

Is that love? Or just caught in lust.
Because this feeling in my heart,
Isn't the standard three month start.

I ain't caught up in some little kid crush.
She ain't even close to what is considered lust.

When I kiss her lips, it's like kissing someone gently on the finger tips,  and more than just a heart jumping shift.
When she lays down in my arms, more than my body gets completely warm, it's my soul telling me to lower all of my alarms.

Its the comforting love in complete darkness.
Its the word forever with no need for promises.
Its walking around blind but there's no risk.
Its taking that leap of faith knowing your heart can't miss.

Its feeling like you never left home
Its being in a faceless crowd but knowing you aren't alone
Its being surrounded and embraced by love just from a voice on the phone

Its agruing with her but knowing she loves you
Its blood in your veins that won't turn icy blue
Its the 4 a.m. sleepless nights where she just takes you in like she always knew..
Knew you needed that hug before you even said ****.
Walking around lonely then she appears with a lovely kiss.
Standing in front of her eyes and knowing you've been missed
Simply knowing your anger is calmed when she touches your wrist.

What is love, man?????
Love.... You truly can't even understand.
Find someone who makes it's hard to explain or even withstand,
When you have the thought of loving someone til they turn grey and old
The feeling of knowing you will mother her children, having a family of four
How listening to her voice does more than just feed your soul.
Tell me all the things she does that make you go crazy.
How you can watch her sleep and it be simply amazing.
How seeing her smile is a sight worth gaining.
Look at my lips and watch me love her more,
Way passed a simple thought of a four letter word,
Love may only be four letters but it's never sounded better
Than when you can't clearly describe it
Just what it is that she can do
From how she makes you wake up everyday
To what you'll see when you fall for her too.

the simplicity of the silence,
the holy matrimony of the moon and emptiness,
the unforgiving nature of all the broken pieces -
the noiseless abandonment.
do you feel it?

my mother tells me to stop believing so much in the things i cannot see,
so i ask why she believes in my father
and she is silent.
she stopped believing long ago but hasn’t found the strength to claim the brokenness inside her.
the sadness hangs in the air.
do you feel it?

my teacher asks me about fiction and fact and i say
no one is safe either way,
fairytales don’t always have happy endings.
the disappointment lingers in the room for a long while.
can you feel it?

the way things whither away with the passage of time,
the gradual but constant erosion of once important things
like memory and bank accounts and love.
the theory of decay.
do you feel it?
of course not.

the silence forgets that it knows how to speak
so it doesn’t.
my father forgets that he knows how to love
so he doesn’t.
the author forgets how to rewrite the narrative
and so she doesn’t.

the theory of decay.
do you feel it?
because I do.

Her soft petals fall,
easy as wild poetry:
muse for medicine.

Hello poetry confirmed my belief
In cynacism
If a poet can't live for others
Death is better

Once again my brain and heart warred over what to say,
And the garbled half mutterings seem to have hurt you.
Well of course,
Why did I expect any different?
It always goes downhill when I talk...
I need to stop talking.
****.