i did not cry when you left

instead

my soul

rejoiced

I don’t want to chase you anymore,
Alexis.
So from this moment on
I’m choosing not to.
If our paths are meant to cross again
then
I hope that they do.
But as of now
I have no legitimate desire
to continue
to be led on
by you.

when I met you
I knew
what became of us
would be far too much
for my soul to bare

now here we are
miles apart
wading in our own despair

our love has soured
like the milk and honey
of what we once compared

i close my eyes
and can’t help but wonder

who had helped Him
create you?

Did Michelangelo help Him design your face from stone and etch your beautiful imperfections into your caramel colored flesh?

Was it Raphael who decided that honey was too beautiful and decadent a substance to be left only for edible indulgence, and allowed you to have pools of golden honey for eyes?

Who better than Titan to pull from the clouds, and the water whom then MUST have pulled inspiration from silk when allowing your skin and hair to be as soft as the robes I wear to bed with you.

I wonder when He called Leonardo Da Vinci in? Was it when he decided that you were going to be beautiful? Or when He decided you’d be intelligent, or when He decided you’d be kind?

I close my eyes and wonder, did they help Him create such a work of art in hopes that you’d be mine?


After all,

I close my eyes

and dream

of those whimsical, renaissance skies.

my love language

is saying

that I HATE you

  when

what I really

wanna say

is

   I LOVE you

but if I told you

that I loved you

as often

as I felt the urge to

you’d think that I was

nuts

it is nearly midnight

and I see her

in all of her elegance

dancing through the trees,

calling me to her.

she radiates,

glows with a light so pure

so ethereal

I almost weep

for what did I do

to deserve the treasure

that is

the moon

I never knew
that I could become
so enthralled
               and entrapped
                              and enamored
by one person

until

I met

you.

As they age,

they grow.

both in strength and in height.

in wisdom and in love,

in spirituality and in truth.

but as they grow externally,

beneath the grass, and the soil,

lay the foundation of the tree,

that sturdy something so powerful.

We are all rooted in different things.

Christ.

Love.

Hate.

Money.

Lust.

Power.

Men are like trees walking.

As we age, we grow.

But what we are rooted in,

that’s what really matters.

we see the same moon
and we wish upon the same stars

and whenever we’re apart
I look to the night sky
and realize,

you’re never
really
that
far.