Your actions echo love,
My rendition of it;
Why don’t they linger
Like words will.

Your actions parade love
That I applaud;
Why can I not trust them
Unless I have it in print.

I write
Poems of love
For a man of few words.

I feel
Acts of love
For a writer, is it not enough.

When do we ever say we're over
With all the what if's and why
The sleepless nights
And the morning aches...

Is it the days you're okay,
Or is that just the thought of okay
But when that song is played,
Do you smile? or weakens you?

When was the last time you tell yourself "I'm done"
Was it done once? twice? thrice?
Or countless times?
When do we ever say we're over

Could it be forced?
Should it be now...

If I had taken chances with all those advances we would of met under different circumstances.
But in the end where the river bends
Turns out we’re all friends

I’m sorry for being so sorry
For being weak
For watching
Too much Maury
I live in a fantasy land
I get sad
Cause my reality is ******
I want so much
Just to touch
The heart of
Of he who hasn’t
Had mine for lunch


It’s my fault
It always is
You would think by now
I would be used do this
I don’t want to ruin anything
I don’t want to get in the way of what the future could bring
I need to get out before my soul begins to cling

I’m sorry.
For being lonely
For falling, low key
I’m sorry
I’m weak
The love I receive
Is much too bleak
I’m sorry
I wish I was stronger
I should just leave
Over and yonder


My only worry is
The farther i go
My heart will grow
That much fonder

I try my best not too
Look..
All this uncertainty has me
Shook

I never felt so worried
Over an ending
Of a story
Only before ours could be read
It always already fuckind dead

Before I go
I just wanted
To let you know



I’m Sorry

I look at myself
and once again
I have that feeling.

That stone in your heart,
that heartless stone
that is me.

Raw feelings go here
unscheduled
no words to describe them,
just feeling.

I could say that I'm down
In this English language of yours
But no, that's not it.

You may argue it's depression,
and yeah, my psychiatrist would agree,
but that's not it either.

Maybe it's dysphoria kicking in once more,
certaintly I feel its awful hand greeping me again,
but that's not it.

What may it be,
this ugly feeling I puke to the poem.
I don't know.

But I want it to stop

Some nights,
Am the fallen star,
with too many wishes
hanging upon it.

Some days,
am the wilted flower,
which has seen too many winters
and too few springs.

Mostly I am the invisible presence
that never quite learnt to show itself.
I have watched too many people
and know too well the bitter scent of pretence in the air.

They will pretend to,
see you,
know you,
love you.

Only for them to,
hurt you,
leave you,
**** you

Life is a party some said
but no one warned me
against uninvited  Guest.

Lost
Not loved
Bruised
Not enough

Perspective

Okay
getting better
Things look up
A little lighter

It ***** when someone loves you, yet she always break your heart
It ***** when you give your everything, yet she only gives her part
It ***** when you made her whole, yet you're the one who's shattered
It ***** when someone act like she cares, yet leaves your pieces scattered

I really wish I could be more like you
I wish I could let go of your hand and bear watching you walk away
But I just cant, and I'll never be you
Who leaves me when Im on my knees begging you to stay

As the blood flows through my veins
I kneel to God praying that "Please, Oh God Father ease the pain"
But I guess Im way too nefarious to be heard
So the skies weeps and my hands quivered

Help me to repaint our faded rainbow
Before it gets covered with snow
Help me to fight our foe
Before it defeats our glow