I've been thinking about you

and I still care for you and then some

even, after you've hurt me in a nightmare

or when my fear becomes reality

my love,

you've been a pillow for me head

you've cheered me on when needed

and you'll always be where it's comfortable

I cannot compose brilliant poems, sonnets, or verses,

and I cannot speak to you in Latin or Greek;

I cannot move you with any language made up by man.

Love is the only only language I could touch you with

If you only knew how much I could love you.

If you knew I love you;

If I were brave enough to tell you at all.

with a heart so hard
it's hard to tell
when did i become
so cynical

skeptical
in my beliefs
in all they do
in all i see

tossed out the trust
which raised my doubts
pessimistic in
what i have found

wry in my
thoughts i find
i'm cynical
most all the time

cynical
in my daily mocking
unbelieving
in my nightly scoffing

with this heart so hard
it's hard to tell
when i became
so cynical

Wander alone, for once
Wander about,
on this earth
you don't quite understand

Take a nap on the sea,
for once
feel the cold water
being warmed by the sun

Sleep by the banyan tree,
for once
watch as the snake slither
under your feet

By then you'll hear whispers;
someone else inside you
Yourself, but not you,
saying things you dare not speak
Of pronanities, maybe
or of sorrow
your deepest wish, perhaps
of not waking up the next morning

So wander alone, for once

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't