your scent in every puff of smoke
your taste in every drop of bitter coffee
your voice in every thunder

making life a little less miserable

every morning a reminder
you're just a passing breeze/ a temporary tattoo/a coping mechanism
every night a reality
i live on the beach/ my heart stained with ink/ i don't need to cope

The halo surrounding you converges to the centre of my heart;
Every cell vibrating;
Trying to unchoke my words;
At least for a greeting

An inch forward;
A lifetime's worth of courage;
But its a cloudless sky, your eyes;
The harmony of blue and white slowly vanishing;
But they reappear, pixelating;
With every step backwards.

Behind the desk, sits the blonde man
With every button pushed,
100 metre radius of fire
1000 children crying
10000 limbs flying apart

There I am, 101 metres away
Standing with a gun in my hand
A photo in the other
They look happy, at least I hope

White is wrong, black is good
Heaven is bad, hell is good
Only with a gunshot on my chest
I ask
Why cant everyone be gray

The words that leave my lips
Shall disappear
Like breath in cold air
Going nowhere
Meaning nothing

These poems into which
We pour our hearts
Other than the smallest few
Shall be lost in endless cyber space
Like billions of trillions of others

The loves that we swear eternally
Can last no longer than lovers' lives
It shall be negated by death
Other than to an unknown
And unknowing energy

                                        By Phil Roberts