Don't ask me if you're beautiful
For I am a poet, my dear
If only a simple, but heartfelt "yes"
Is what you would like to hear

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
If your deep brown eyes are lovely
I'll say they're luminous stars,
During my nights, they shine impeccably

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
If your smiles are charming
I'll say they're arcs of polychromatic colors
Stretched across blue skies, breathtaking

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
If your hair is just fine,
I'll say they're thin tails of wandering comets
Fascinating, plainly divine

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
If your dress looks okay
I'll say you're a glass of ice cold water
And I've been thirsty for this entire summer day

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
If I'll still hold your rough hand
Darling, can an average human like me
Resist a touch so grand?

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
After one, five, ten, twenty-five years time
I'll say that whatever my eyes descry
Will be defining sublime

Don't ask me if you're beautiful
You're in love with a poet, my dear
Simple answers are not what I'd give
A mere "yes" is not just what you'd hear

Funny how a photograph can pump blood
I only have one of you, it isn't mine
it sits here backlit
shared with all that would gladly drown in those mischief eyes.
Your smile, a moment of calm, a second of perfection caught, always brings my own.
There is no beauty like yours, no work of art has ever made me want to overflow with passion the way you do. I could write countless poems, a thousand odes to your dimples, a million sonnets to your curls, a billion lovesongs to your eyes to no avail. So I'll laugh at your jokes, and be a sturdy shoulder, a friend.  I'll wish the best for you always, while your heart keeps my secret safe. Poets shouldn't fall in love with the unloved, there aren't enough words to describe the agony.

I love you
not because
you're good looking

I love you
not because
you're caring

I love you
not because
you dote on me

I love you
not because
your smiles are sweet

I love you
not in lust
of your crevice
or orifice
or skin

I love you
because
without you
I feel

incomplete within.

A man changes his wall paper.
Shortly afterwards, winter comes to an end.
He says to himself that he has changed the seasons with a single
                                                                                    deliberate action.

The seasons begin to change,
So slowly as they always have.
Midway, a man finally feels it-
He changes his wall paper.

The seasons say nothing.
Because the seasons do not feel.

Because they are felt.

Death told her
           her life should end
and he was her friend

Calmly, she stole my gun
     she walked outside in the sun
pulled the trigger, set the mood
barrel to her head to conclude

I saw her head come undone
,,, Reached down, for my gun
Eyed the chunks in her hair
Now to my head |
                               |I draw a rose there.

I only see the gray
of the rainbow stained skies
Every hour of Every day
I can only improvise

In the past it was easy
since the laughs were sincere
and in the moment briefly
there was no such thing as fear

And now I sit indifferent
but in anguish all the same
seemingly irrelevant
with nothing and no one to blame