My writing skills are so good, I earned the distinction of being the only guy who got rejected by a girl because of it

.
Deep in a shallow body,
Built for burials under moon,
The seas rage in tombs of vein,
Dark and salted, wet preserved
In flesh that fades by blistering sun,
A star much higher than old flames,
Mortal and frail in mucks of oft being,
Of earth and breaths traveled alone,
The tell tale heart was rung, hollow,
Swung bold on meat hook splinters
Of femurs soaked with leached lime
For life is a boneyard of wintertimes,
And summer merely drips of dreams,
Bleeding as the belled heart, in tells,
Is beaten into mettle shroud where
Hope only enters from two blinded
Eyes, in the drowning, dried ocean
Body, touch is printed off in dust,
Sorrow bred misinterpretations,
For love is a holey spirit, ghostly
In its wail.  And heart can but
Only bleed so much red until
The last chimes of never.

Mostly
my heart knows
the right thing
to do,
but doesn't.

No surprise.

It's only
a stupid muscle
after all.

   - mce

For my boys, now grown, but in memory still green.*

Sleep, child, the winter is long
and the harsh winds blow cold,
but in my arms you are warm.
The time will soon be here
when you will wake, grown and alone,
to find me passed from this lonely earth.
The years will fly and you will wake to springs
long after my arms have left you,
long after this lullaby is sung.
But  now I hold you as in a dream
and thank whatever gods may be
that we are here, just you and me.

  ~mce