Peeling off layers of humility
To at last reveal authenticity,
To exhibit my pride most shamelessly,
I accept this vulnerability.

To be who I am confronts irony,
As still letters mask personality.
The art form I love has complicity—
The true self hides inside true poetry.

To shed this self-loathing ability,
And be honest in rhyme’s complexity,
I create pages of pure fantasy
That speak the words I feel most honestly.

Words tend to survive mortal’s history,
Past their reflection of reality,
So they seem written with mendacity,
Though lies are beyond my capacity.

Today I acknowledge futility
Of a poem that lacks identity.
This writer makes no more apology—
I am written words and the words are me.

I hear your echo in silence,
Your voice speaks to me in quiet,
With ears that hear feelings, not words,
In a heart to amplify it.

Your clearest words were not spoken,
But they resounded in my ears,
In a heart tuned to perfect pitch
Of loving feelings that it hears.

I listen to your heart beating
To know the words you have to say,
My heart understands love language
Said from a million miles away.

In despair that causes deafness,
Hope is the comfort your voice speaks,
With ears you’ve given to my heart
Your love is what my silence seeks.

Floating away with stardust in my hand,
Pieces of sunshine with nowhere to land,
Basking in lightness I don’t understand,
Holding stardust is like love in my hand.

Carrying stardust wherever I go,
To hold with me a bit of cosmic glow,
How it shines so bright I will never know,
Sprinkling stardust is letting my love show.

Kissing the stardust around my head,
Sleeping with starlight beside me in bed,
Into the darkness it’s lit where I’ve led,
Following stardust to true love ahead.

Needing the stardust as much as I do,
Alive with glow of energy new,
Its glorious aura in all that’s true,
Loving stardust, my star, that stardust is you.

I’ve thought about you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To know my heart was beating.

I thanked God for you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To recall life is fleeting.

I spoke about you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To hear the name I’m needing.

I felt my love grow all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To feel my world completing.

There are two kinds of waiting:
Hopeful and hopeless.
Hopelessness is weary angst,
Violent eddies of despair.
Nervous pacing while staring
The mind battling the heart.
Hopefulness is jubilant,
Spontaneous leaps of joy.
Nervous tapping of your feet
Ready to meet life head on.
There are two kinds of waiting:
Hopeless and hopeful.  
But neither prevents waiting.

No need to retreat from smiling faces,
Or to find refuge from warmth of the sun.
The world comes replete with peaceful places,
Your only job is to discover one.

No need to deny moments of laughter,
Or rely on sadness to make you feel.
The world holds all the promise you’re after,
Your only job is to see that it’s real.

No need for shame when you feel elation,
Or feeling that fortune is undeserved.
The world has goodness as its foundation,
Your only job is to find yours reserved.

Happiness screams for you to come get it,
The world gives it to you if you let it.

I have never met a woman
in whom I did not see beauty,
Though I’ve met so many women
whose own beauty they could not see.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t say otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
that a good man could not adore,
Though I’ve met so many women
convinced they’re easy to ignore.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t show otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
who did not radiate her light,
Though I’ve met so many women
who thought themselves as black as night.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t act otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
for whom loving was not assured,
Though I’ve met so many women
despaired that love had not occurred.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t love both of them,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

There was a moment, so unexpected,
When I woke, seeking just ordinary,
Resigned to loneliness, unconnected,
Our encounter—felt imaginary.

Seeking isolation, no need for lust,
Appreciation gone, beauty no more,
Passion burned, with eyes I no longer trust,
You—a seduction I’d not known before.

Pulling back from feeling, and nakedness,
All the beauty, futile, unrequited,
Choosing instead dullness, and wretchedness,
Our spark—an extinguished soul ignited.

Recoiling, fear, cursed sexuality,
Libidinous impulses, uncontrolled,
Bare, on altars of sensuality,
You—inviting love I cannot withhold.

Kiss me, hold me, bring my love in deeper,
Forgive me, embrace me, don’t let me be still,
Touch me, and own me, and be my keeper,
Your look—I resisted, but have lost my will.

I think with my feelings, not with my mind.
My persistent heart leaves my brain behind.
The world that I see seems ever so real,
But I can never sense more than I feel.

While reason and passion fight over me,
I experience emotionally.
Instead of judging with thoughts in my head,
I’d rather resolve them in dreams instead.

I occupy life as if fantasy.
Truth without feeling seems a fallacy.
I trust in those instincts that bring me tears
And tune out rational words in my ears.

I’m giving up on following logic.
Too many thoughts have been catastrophic.
I no longer care what I’m thinking of.
From now on I listen only to love.