My desire:

When you danced your way
into my life,
you brought with you
a light;
one which illuminated
the scene around it.

A world -
which was previously
burdened
by imperative darkness -
now exposed to my sight.

Your magnificence
consequently
revealed
the beauty in my own world:
one which I had forgotten,
one which I had
closed the doors upon -
deeming happiness
impossible to find.

I suppose,
what I'm trying to say
is:
you are the light of my life.
But somehow,
those words don't serve justice.

None of my words
serve
justice
to how I feel for you.

Those
nights,
the
music,
mood,
dancing -

are what
I imagine
my heaven
would be.

We could be anywhere -
I could have
nothing
to my name
except black lipstick
and a tenacious heart -
whenever
I'm with you,
I know it's the only place
I need to be.

I wish I could tell you
how you take me
out of this world -
but habitually,
I find it
difficult
to communicate
the music of my heart.

Perhaps,
it's because
alongside
my poor choice of words
and
jumbling of sentences;

whenever
I look into your eyes
the only thought
I can be sure of,
is that
you have the most beautiful face
I have ever seen.

And when you smile -
forget anything
I had on my mind -
your smile
is the kind you read about;
one that makes people
want to do right,
one that
melts away worry;
one
that makes people
fall in love.

You smell like rain
In you love is born again
Only fiercer this time
Deeper and faster I fall
You are a fortress
And I am a stall

A sweet musty rain
Yet my heart still feels
A bit of strain
The higher I get
The quicker I think
When will you finally
Just let me sink

when you walk to the beach
All my favorite things
You feel like home
And taste like dreams
But I'm filled with fear
Could it be our end is near

On that wooden walkway
You have my heart
Take all my love
Every last part
My soul yearns yours
Connected at best
Feel it in my burning chest
Fuel my fire and reach
My desires, I've forgotten
How Amazing this could be

you pass those green plants  
Your love, a breath of fresh air
But only after drowning
Do I find it unfair you
Filled my world with despair
But I can't turn away because
For now you smell like rain
A sweet musty rain
when you walk to the beach
On that wooden pathway
You pass those green plants

I feel we're living the last days of Versailles
As beauty fades before my eyes
Convinced as I am
The gods owe us time,
I'd destroy this world
To keep what's mine.

My universe is necrotising
As I stumble through ruins
And colour drains away.

I bargain for time...

Throughout the many lives we've lived before knowing only each time we return,
To experience full transfiguration
You have to be willing to burn.

Lately the poetry is not coming to me,

I feel pain too intensely.

I feel myself enclosed within tight spaces,

I can hardly feel a flow of words, spill out, unwaveringly.

Lately, I’ve been too lost in thought,

I am too much in rumination to get a burst of feeling,

So intense, I resort to written expression.

Lately, I’ve been scared of many things;

Of living and of death;

Of my own and my only friend.

Lately, lately, I await, until the words come again…

Oh how nice it must be too sleep, to lay in a dream that's mine too keep, to play in a land of my minds own construction, to nest in my bed's slumbering seduction.

But dreams were never meant for me, for when I'm in bed my mind never feels free, its trapped in reality how dearly I plea, howbeit dreams were never meant for me.

Too fearful of what my mind can conjure, fresh tortures to use as the monsters grow stronger, they saunter and strut in the prison that is she, for sweet dreams were never meant for me.

When you’re not newly or madly in love
When no new thrill has come your way
When the sunset is hidden by the smog
And the draught has killed all the flowers

What do you write about

When you’ve suffered no great disappointment
When you’ve won no award or any prize
When you haven’t gambled on love and lost
And the mountains you’ve climbed are just hills

What do you write about

When inspecting your navel is boring
When you can’t really tell how you feel
When you can’t see the humor in pratfalls
And nothing exciting has happened

What do you write about

When everyone you know remains healthy
When the trees in the woods are just trees
When the butterflies don’t visit your garden
And the hummingbird feeder’s abandoned

What do you write about

When you reach for the stars but can’t touch them
When you hear the song but can’t sing it
When you stare at your blackboard and it’s empty
And you’ve run out of ink for your pen

What on Earth do you write about.
ljm