Love is ..........
Love is sheltering from the rain
Together remembering not to complain
Making every little thing worthwhile
Changing sad times with a smile.
Love is learning to accept mistakes
Knowing when to put on the brake
When annoying habits come to light
Especially loud snoring at night.
Love is all about sharing, caring and acceptance
And of course it is all about romance.
Love is about trust. A must to survive
To keep the relationship alive.
Love is learning to forgive, starting again
When an argument sends stuff down the drain.
Holding each other, protecting and laughter
Giggling under the sheets, looking after
Each other when things go wrong.
Love is breaking into your favourite song
In the car when snow melts falling from above
Gently once more falling deeper in love.

She measures self worth in numbers -
Numbers like the seven he gave her last night,
Scribbled on a coffee shop napkin.
She's like a butterfly, you see;
Wondrous on the outside
But blank within
Fluid, without shape or body or mind -
No spine.
She is whatever words are thrown her way.
She is numbers,
A simple code, a formula,
To which the answer will always be
"I'll see you at eight," or
"Call me," or sometimes just "Yes."
Easy.
She's shapeless conformity,
And when she wakes up someplace new,
She counts the numbers down:
Five, Four, Three, Two -
One time she had her own edges,
But that's neither here nor there, really.
Yesterday, she was seven digits,
But today, for now,
She's zero.

Listless.

the psychology of a social construct so easily broken down.

cracks so exposed and well worn wedges do pleasures deeds.

electromagnetic synapses delving into the degree of damage.

Prose for ill minds comes in droves and withholds no force.

fates memory holds in high regard the lasting forgotten.



drowned stone fire pits lost within reflections craters

Tis so easily tapped through wayward degrading honesty

neither gasp nor exclaim as treacherous glare busts horizons

Proclaim righteousness for the still air of true possibilities

crushing microcosmos with known unfounded pestilence



Flare and stone berate the cold states of spectrum reach

Reminders on the dust tails of impact praise residing

well woven whispers dilute the hollow hold resonating

but of course destruction impact anguish abides

but of course destruction. sculptors require fire.