She pursed her lips, smiled
and
devastated me with her lilac eyes.

This world is so small
yet
none of us has seen it all

She and I are cut from the same branch, from the same tree,
planted in the same soil.

There's not much difference between her and I.

The time that is spent with her seems to play out like a scene from a theater.

With her on the other side of the small table as we
sip away from the same ice cream float.

When we're done, she grabs my hand and drags me to the
place where happiness is always worn.

The amusement park.

She shows me the bright carousal in the center
of the park.

This is her special place and she wants to share it with me.

As we ride the colorful horse,
my eyes meet her gaze of infatuation.

After the ride she decides to drag me to go get some
cotton candy.

My hands and lips are sticky from the cotton candy.

My eye meet her constant gaze of infatuation.

It's the end of and we both lay in a tuffle of grass,
holding each others hands.

As I turned towards her, our eyes meet for the last time.

*"Thank you for the memories of cotton candy pink"

There’s a little wooden house on the corner with a beautiful garden in the front.

It always ropes in the attention of the whole town when spring comes along.

The main attraction is a garden in the front with a small batch of roses.

These roses are beautiful with different shades of red coloring the vivid green bush it’s sprouting from.

But there’s one small purple rose amongst a bed of red, just a bit off to the right.

No one pays attention to this purple rose because of  all the other red ones.

The purple rose is fragile and beautiful looking with frail looking petals making it unnoticed.

The lady that owns the little wooden house allows you to pick the roses just as long as you don’t hurt yourselves from the thorns.

No one dares pick the purple rose cause of the rigid and thorned spine it has.

I have a go at the chance to pick the purple rose. I reach out my arm as I grabbed the thorny spine of the rose.

Holding the spine with the fullness of palm, my hand sprouting out with the blood of countless mistakes and regrets.

But this, this was never a mistake that has ever been. It was an accomplishment that no one has ever dwelled upon.

My hand hurts with the blood coursing from the center of my palm running all the way down to my elbow.

Tears start to arise on the horizon of my eyes and a small crooked smile starts to wry on the side of my face.

I am happy, and filled with joyous emotions, emotions that I can never ever fathom of experiencing.

The magnificent purple looking rose resting in the palm of my blood encrusted hand.

**“Her favorite color is purple…”

I just want to leave, leave my whole life behind.

Everyone I’ve ever known, hated and love.

Left behind without ever being there.

I want to chase the sun that lies just above the horizon.

The horizon that has always imprisoned me with a ****** life.

I’ve got nothing to show for it except writing these ****** poems about love and life.

The yellow sun is enough of a reason to make any man chase a dream fading from memory.

I want to grasp the sun and let it rest upon my ill woken palms.

I want the warmness of everything that has ever been in my hands.

Has anyone ever touched the sun?

The naturally sweetened honey sun?

Hello Autumn,

it's been one whole year since I've last seen you

So you're back

but she's not