I truly thought
I had found myself
in a wondrous place
where you could truly see me,
and that all my words
were forever immortalized.
Held close.......
inside of your everything,
soft......as a breeze.

I laughed as you stared
into my eyes, asking my name.
With my heart in your hands
and the moonlight
at your beck and call.
Then......watching you walk away,
I smiled.......
even though I realized
you never knew me
at all.

There is a massive distance
between her smile and tears
when she writes about the rain.
Because her faded dreams
put her mind at ease
behind the places
where she stands
in pain.

Sitting in the garden
where one finds love
in those eyes
that speak of alone.
She writes lines
which intrigue mysteriously.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
when dawn breaks
across the trees.

The inner deepness of her words
hold on to each cloud,
crying out to the depths
of our bones.  
They tell us our worst hours
contain the time outside
of her faded dreams
and that they too.....
will soon be gone.

When she writes about the rain
we smile
behind the places
where we stood in pain.  
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
knowing......
they never speak
in vain.

From among dreams that come to shine and be mirrored
outside of our sleep,
we find a sea of life inside a flawless silence.
Without thought,
we cherish the intoxication
putting our lives in a state of perfect balance.

A first kiss can grab your heart
and leave it beating faster
than sand flows in the hourglass of time.
Or, it can cast a shadow on everything
that is required
when you find yourself asking,
what is the beat I hear in my mind?

The brightest feathers are dismissed by memories
of lines once wrote
about the image of the moon.
For the first time we dared to dream
about more than a jagged rhythm
never succumbing
to finding a new tune.

We find we do not care if we are bathed
in laughter or neglect
as long as we are next to one another
in a portrait where we smile.
We will still dance inside our words of love,
smooth as glass for miles and miles.

Closer and closer the trueness of our hearts
becomes visible to all Heaven and Earth
here below
with gravity held only as a slave.
A slave with tears that wash away any doubt
that what goes up
must come down right away.

I brushed my hand across what you said
then remembered
the exact moment I discovered
my favorite hiding place
where my heart could take deep breaths
and move away from the shadows
speaking as echoes across my mind.  
I could feel them move far, far away
from my beating heart
taking me to heights
where I could escape to a better place,
I thought I'd never find.

The deepest pain.....all the hurt I feel,
becomes trivial in this journey
where I define myself
and rises above my existence
here in the solitude
I find
within this hiding place.
Here, my heart becomes softly addicted
to leaving behind
the complications which cling
to the railings
of all my inspiration
when I attempt to write
the song of a nightingale
and every bad memory.........
erase.

A collaboration between Neva Flores and Mark Albert http://hellopoetry.com/-mark-albert/ and of Writers Cafe  http://www.writerscafe.org/Insomnius

I paint pictures in my mind with your smile and your voice,
Always hungering and wondering what you paint in yours.
I have a feeling that your thoughts beckon my own,
turn my resolve into a burning  liquid even the sun has to adore.

When the Sun has gone, and thoughts turn to sleep,
this man dreams in colors drowning me in the sea of your woman's heart.
Still, here I am crying out in a voice full of fight afraid to look into your eyes
as my heart could be destroyed, my world torn apart.

I lay still trying to obey the face of time, to let go soothing trickles of reassurance
in shimmering beams given from the Moon.
While we both use words when our eyes are not closed, mine are complex
and yours easy to hold..dropped from different hearts, yet in tune.

It is enough, holding this dream for now. With eyes, hands, and hearts unfurling,
slowly opening through barriers erected from the destruction past.
I believe in these two hearts that are beating as they write about love differently.
Today I will take down those barriers, just don't enter too fast.


© 2012 Neva Flores and  Mark Albert

Unfilled dreams visit me
and I pretend
thundering pain does not touch my soul
when I can't hear you say,
“I love you”
before I lay me down to sleep.
Still, I wonder
if I called out on the coldest night
would I hear nothing
but silence
inside the dreams
I keep.  

In the morning hours
I write your name
in the air
with a hand of power,
creating an image
of  love's fire
that can never be lost
in thought.  
A delightful understanding
becomes a sensation of living
with the eyes of my heart
wrapped around the words
I have sought.

My mind sings our story
even when I am alone.
It shouts
from an ocean
of heaven
with a tune swinging  
to the countless beat
of our future need.
It paints our past
with long strokes of feeling
outside of  all the years
that were hidden
by a shadow's greed.

Here I stand as I am
with an invitation
circling my heart
creating a place
for you to be
when time hands me leave
to love you
with every breath
I breathe.  
Although, I may not hear the words
from your lips
the eyes of my heart
hear you speak
with ears........
that see.