I will
love
every
one
of your
one million
layers

tonight's early sky
hung a poem

for the capture

but my muse's
net wasn't
woven tight enough

to hold that slip of a moon
or its partner
that one tiny star

If the Devil had a friend,
Who would it be?
Would it be you or
        would it be me?
You played with a top,
but you left it there spinning.
My mother's darkest hour
         became my beginning.
You abused her, ***** her,
and used for game.
Now because of you
         I'm the embodiment of shame.
A man has a job
to do what is right
but you'd rather crush souls
          and play as you'd like.
So I ask again, If the Devil had a friend,
who would it be?
Would it be you?
           Because I refuse for it to be me.
There's a thin line between right and wrong,
And now Nineteen years have gone.
I've cried and been angry
           but it all left me empty.  
A child can not pay
for the sins of the father
so I refuse to feel shame
            for what you did to my mother.
If the Devil had a friend.
Who would it be?
Would it be you?
Or would it be me?

.........All
               I  
                  can
                    see
                       to-
                       night
                      is your
                    sly
                 side-
               ways
          smile

I see poetry in waking up every day feeling your breath in the back of my neck.

I see poetry in the smell of eggs, bacon and lemonade in the kitchen while I shower.

I see poetry in my wallet where your picture always is.

I see poetry in the morning when I step outside and you wave good bye.

I see poetry in our messages and every little reminder that you love me still.

I see poetry in your body as you slowly undress for me.

I see poetry in you, and me, like pen and paper, we both play our part.

So we make poetry in the sheets,
And we write it in our hearts.