Was I supposed to dream for you lover?
I've forgotten the things I once thought I knew.
Those moments we shared under covers,
When the skies were clear and our heart's were true.
Perhaps I sung you too many love songs.
Perhaps you didn't prefer my tune.
Perhaps I lost my memory in February,
Unprepared for your arrival in June.
My soul cried out to you then,
Now my soul weeps for me.
My eyes have dried and left tear stains,
Saline's plastered on my cheeks.
Excuse my wince dear lover.
Winter came and went.
When spring sprang I sprung from your covers,
And my heart hasn't looked back since.
I may have forgotten the things I thought I once knew,
Like how you held me til I was ensconced in your scent.
But the pain you've caused dear lover,
I can't help but not forget.

the way he wears his words
must be the way he wears
his clothes, in few but many
not so much so that I still
can hear his heartbeat
pulse between the lines

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

Perfection
The subjection of one’s interjections
Based on the world
The world of today
Can you change what you think
What others have to say

Were interconnected but not in connection
With a convection of perfection that inhibits rejection
Or constant correction of certain parts or sections
That people fail to mention for their own protection
Believing a misconception to gain desired affection
Wasting their discretion for a false obsession
Thoughts of concession and encouraging suppression
This is just one dissection of perfection
It is but one path, one direction
But this should lead to many other questions

What about succession from the term perfection?
Is it needed to drive people to higher ascension?
Maybe one day society can undergo a social resurrection
Where creed, religion, race, freedom are not held in contention
No more crimes, no need for detention
Everyone is happy, no more thoughts of depression
Everyone can be comfortable with their own reflection

Hopefully this dissection can leave a lasting impression
And drive home the need for a universal intervention
To stop and think what it means strive for perfection
For you may have it wrong upon further inspection