Hell is
being with you in my
sleep
But waking up
all alone
With windows open
and wine bottles shattered
on the floor
Hell is
standing in the shadows watching
you adore another woman
Kissing her and holding her
Hell is
being all alone without the soul I adored

                          S.M.R.

I wanted the dark the afterglow needed,
but that night caught me unawares,
with its black skin
letting go of distances,
showing a heart that knows
the words and the untold,
the sounds can’t be but felt
I could get and save a little beat…

Wit, flair, games played going all out,
talent lit up the eyes of time
because free to be,
fond of listening and give,
homesick and adventurous
bowing to beauty and loneliness,
but art that sweetness,
strength came out of fears.

The afterglow wanted me
to need the dark... and a star.

glass and concrete
walls that do not hold
memories of home.

I'm weary, I hear myself say
My eyes closing as I walk on my way
The day just beginning when all I wish it to do is go away
Weary of the day ahead, what's gone and what's yet to come
This weariness draining my heart through my noisy head

The chill of the breeze my weary heart wanting to cease
And then the loving sun shinning her rays upon me, come closer I beg of thee
Take me to another place
Do not disappear near that cloud I say
wash away my weariness today

They are the heart givers
and the breath takers
without them I cannot live
but just like my exgirlfriend
they can't seem to find
where they left their compassion.

I cannot breathe
but that is only because it cost too much to live
understanding their desire of money
it pains me to know greed
not of my own will be the cause of my death.

That in my generosity I forgot
planting trees does not grow the greens they seek
and the carrots sprouting are ones they eat
not the ones they don't wear to the office
but dance around their family with.

Education was supposed to be their gravity
and with each ounce of knowledge
built an anchor to the moon
because instead of humanity
they've become a celestial star
whose imagination wanders
outside the orbit of those who may be suffering.

A broken hearted soul
paves the waiting room with their corpse
because while in the void
something had to go and
it wasn't the money
but a man that couldn't
afford to keep his heart going.

We met in the rain, wet, distraught,
too short a moment ot engage,
to wrapped up to become enraptured,
too uncomfortable for comforting.
The rain created our chance meeting,
then dampened our greetings.

A poets heart,
Is a very deep well
It holds many secrets,
Some we never tell

We speak in rhymes,
Or metaphors
We write of hope for the future,
Or sadness gone before

We are guilty,
Of feeling things too deep
And pondering secrets,
Life its self has to keep

Poets see things clearly,
That others cannot
We wonder about questions,
Which time, has forgot

A poets heart,
Beats at a different pace
A poets pen,
Defies time and space

We poets,
Create our own written place
We poets,
Are together, our own race

As poets,
We stand apart
And live in the deep well,
Of our poetic hearts