Mist and color
Sparkle
Mountains climbed
Slowly and then quickly
And it does remind
You to go but stay
Whispering still
Say everything again
You match the hills
Blood on your arm
It kills.

I have stopped writing love poems for you.
And please do not think this is a love poem.
Because I am finally over you at last.

I do not care to relive past moments of us.
Like when I saw you for the first time.
And the songs of angels rang in my heart.

I will never write a love poem for you again.
Like when we sheltered from the spring rain
Below a maple tree in muted olive greens
And the colour of its leaves
were the exact colour of your eyes.

I am finished with silly love poems
And I will never mention again
How I still stop and catch my breath
when I ihear a laugh
exactly like yours.
Or when
I see a woman from behind
And her hair is burnished gold
just like yours.

I am now quite over you.
I hardly ever think of you anymore.
Except perhaps in springtime.

But then

I should never think of springtime.
For that would surely
break my heart in two.

Sexuality is like colours
There is something between
Black and white
It's grey

Never knew I would meet you today,
Never knew meeting you could be this breathtaking..

Maybe I just miss you?
If that is okay..

done at the start
the songs of my heart
covered in violence
love now is silence
my hearts roots go deep
but at the surface i weep
so my true existence
keeps its distance