perhaps I shouldn't feel this way,
when the sun falls into the horizon
and the day is dark,
the clock shifts into another day
feeling so close together,
yet far apart.

maybe when the gentle creatures
rest their paws in the earth,
it should be as simple
as a simple farewell
where we kiss goodbye,
waving our hands.

is it wrong,
to feel so empty,
to be crystallized
in the chilled air, I feel
when we have to say goodbye?
it is only for a moment,
a simple few hours in the day.
I'd even rest my head
the little moon child in bed
and yet I cannot bring myself
to feel content
that the moments,
laughter,
the exchange of sweet words
spent
accounted for
and blown away.

our moments are that of the dandelion,
so pure
so fascinating
as I caress the wisps of your hair
in the fields once more,
only to have you stolen away
by the single brush of wind
that nature brings.

my love feels like a mirror,
glossy and pristine,
a pure reflection,
extension of myself
until I no longer see me.

I don't understand,
why it is breaking me
to see a little farewell,
a goodnight's kiss
be a funeral of the day.  
my hands shaking,
my heart sinks
to an ether
between love and hate
where parting ways
even for a night,
feels like a grave mistake.

freshly fallen snow,
the area around her whistles with
a winter's wind.
walking along the forest
seeing the words you say
cover the floor,
a blanket of frost
growing cold.

within the summer's gust
of heat and distress
I feel your love
my honor
your trust
slowly dying, I confess
to you without
the help of what comes from above
you will cease to exist.

within the spring's breeze
my heart never put at ease
thinking your words,
so simple
so sweet
misunderstanding and tease
me until I am no longer pleased.
as the thought slips past your lips
I feel my chest tighten
compression,
repression of the accused
obsession over you.

perhaps it is my fault,
to fall so far,
in the season's beauty
buried in the ground where
the leaves are.
my greatest regret,
trying to heal your upset
to only awaken
an anger
a pain
a personal disdain
strong enough
leaving a
friendship severed.

I am the daisy,
growing in the shade
fighting the frost
you caused
without there being love lost
the history of us
through the fields of distrust
I try my hardest
to prevent sudden pause.

I didn't do this,
my plan not to turn you away,
to console you my frost
and perhaps try too much
for a simple touch
of sunshine smiles to make you stay.
instead I lie,
in the fields of July,
the chill of your frost
as the wind carries
autumn leaves by
waiting for the daisies of spring
to gently pull me in
to the soil,
for the final rest.

summer breeze,
the way she once looked me
with delight and tease
only grows
as the wind does,
come and go as you please.
the gentle wind
it flows through me
like memories
of our chats together.
something about her,
as though some power
held over me...
she makes me feel better.
a penny for her thoughts
a mile for touch
that summer breeze worth chasing
for I enjoy the rush.

blissful meadow,
a calming shadow,
my inner happiness.
your words like flowers
the river flowing upstream
for when life feels numb
surrounded by a sheet of darkness.

I walk through your fields
as you feel my presence,
the combination shocking
the result an essence
no true emotion can yield
to.
the kinds of things
you and I have been through
it's astonishing
that we're still present here:
introverts
in our over-sized hoodies
in a small-minded
extroverted world
instead of floating out
into the vast
atmosphere.

Dear Diane,
introverted
beautiful,
underappreciated Diane.
your beauty glows
underneath the mountain
in the crystal lake of which
your inner you go to rest.

your parents treat you,
in a way too familiar,
the toxicity choking you
to the point that you scream.
life has gone to ****,
yet your pride wants them to say
that you are good, little darling
and mommy and daddy love you that way.

despite the pain,
the mental ball and chain
that they put you through
time and time again,
those simplest little words
make you forget everything.

you gathered the courage,
to leave given the chance,
found an eccentric romance
and a job not many would say
are in their bucket lists
of things to accomplish one day.
nonetheless,
you find a small portion of happiness
in the acknowledgment
of knowing your worth
is far beyond a bag of chips.

when you get this letter,
probably written in red,
know that which each syllable
sheer admiration and aspirations
are meant to be said
and that you deserve so much better.
as you slip into bed
with a sip of Dom Perignon,
typing away
the ideas of your new book,
I could go on and on
in my own little tidy nook.

in the middle of the night,
where the moon plays
a game of tag with the daylight
I lie in bed thinking of how much I hate how I appear to you.
sweet,
subtle,
submissive and slow
as the gentle kisses once delivered to you.
it pains me to think that
midnight blues
turn into shades of charcoal gray
when I think of your impression of me.
it is asymmetrical,
a puzzle piece that does not fit
to think that the words
so simple
so basic slip past your
peach colored lips,
"you cannot do ****."
misconstrued, I know
given in an improper way
but it wrestles within me
like demons
kept in their cages another day.
my capabilities are limited
to things humane
but am I that useless
to the point
that I am poison
to your veins?
do I make you angry?
do I make you weep?
are the demons in you
injecting their rage
into your skin with every word
that I am to say?
should I react,
or perhaps
I am to behave
like the little girl I once was...
scared,
cold
fear of what to say
disapproval so close to the corner
that any word slipped through my mouth
felt like an eternal mistake.

it is true what they say,
in the moments of weakness
there is someone,
something
about them that
makes the world's time
cease to exist.
you may not want to exist
for them
and yet
their happiness
the slightest smile
upon their warm face
means the world to you.
just to be in their presence
keeps you tethered
to the present.
such a feeling must be chosen
wisely,
with discretion
because such a bond
is almost motherly.
it is protective
it is kind,
with no room for toxicity
darkness
and distrust.
when you look into their eyes
you want to be everything for them
and nothing all at once.
their mark is branded
into your heart with content.
there is no pain
as the stained heart signs
its name of your newfound
connection.
why you may ask?
it is the sound of their
laughter,
the way they look
at you
with unbridled affection.

when we were children,
unimpressionable
innocent,
happy children,
the nature of a liar
were ill-behaved,
put to the corner
with their pants on fire.

when we were teens,
social lives
romance?
it struggles to
survive
an educational
stress in between
to lie was a sign
of betrayal and blight
one you could detect
from mere sight and reflect.
it was a feeling
a presence
that you avoided
for fear of getting hurt.
it was a waste of time.

when we grow older,
and the jar of cynicism
freezes colder
our definitions change
like leaves in the fall
for the upcoming winter's
frosty display
liars are what bring the bad
days.
it would never release
a more pungent beast
to see them lie to your face
on something that didn’t need to be said.
As adults
we learn to value honesty
Not as the cliched policy
But as a form of establishing communication
and trust in some way.
We feel like fools
when we’re used
abused
mistreated little tools
missing the detection
of a well-coifed liar.
Whether the excuse be
naivety or hopeless desire
Personally I’d rather die
Than to be caught
Or distraught
From something so simple
So easy
As a white lie.