How she really feels inside,
She will never tell you.

This could have been a poem about hope; pigeon
Hoping that she would text first, or catch me looking at her
This could have been a poem about passion; fire
Holding her waist, as my lips touched hers
this could have been a poem about love; heart
Taking a longer route to school just because you wanted see her earlier every morning
This could have been a poem about finding reasons, to hold on during tough times
but it is not
there is no reason to hold on
because the love is gone.

I wasn't always this way,
My face used to be brighter,
Somehow somewhere along these last four years,
I've began to withdraw,
Not only from people but from myself.

To be honest my emotional ailment was improving,
And you came along on a night I will never forget,
Spontaneous beginnings that's how they always arise,
You were everything I wanted,
You appeared so genuine, so gracious and amazingly tender.

Too good it was,
I was ready I spilled my heart and soul to you,
That fateful day you deceived me,
Our story is too sad for words,

Bottom line,
I thought you cared,
and everytime your name pops up,
My heart flutters for a moment hoping,
You want me again, but then, reality settles back in.
The sad truth is my heart yearns for you.......still.

She whispers charms to the wind
. . . from the second floor
fire escape

Her heart has been broken
so many times . . . now once more

His soul dances in the Aurora Borealis
and is challenged . . .
He can no longer be more ,
all is , born-as-all-is

He made and kept eye contact
He remembers , it is so strange
Hey ! . . . Hey !

Star's fire flickers faintly
for a faithless heart
So cold their breath upon my face
Their "kiss" feathers
faultless upon my lips

Ten good reasons to stay alive ?
To the rose that feeds the bee
"Streak the heart away . . .
Thy sting remember ?"

"You are deeper than my skin ,
YOU promised me !"

I saw tears.
I heard witnesses.
So I told her something like,
"It's okay, Darling. You can trust me later."

And then,
silence.


(z.h)

1136

The Frost of Death was on the Pane—
“Secure your Flower” said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality.

Our passive Flower we held to Sea—
To Mountain—To the Sun—
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun—

We pried him back
Ourselves we wedged
Himself and her between,
Yet easy as the narrow Snake
He forked his way along

Till all her helpless beauty bent
And then our wrath begun—
We hunted him to his Ravine
We chased him to his Den—

We hated Death and hated Life
And nowhere was to go—
Than Sea and continent there is
A larger—it is Woe—