I'm starting
to forget
your sweet voice.

The way
you laughed
and the way
you made
me feel.

Like I
was special
and the most
beautiful flaw
in the world.

I'm starting
to forget
the moments
we shared
and the love
that i felt.

I don't
remember you
as clearly
as i used to.

If you see the beauty in everything,
the beauty of everything is in you too.

When you can do you begin to
affect those that see no beauty
at all.

And the beauty about that is, you
don’t even know you’re doing it.

I kissed the boy who tasted like cigarettes
I held his hand and felt like fire
and in my recklessness
I was pleased with myself like I was the one
who smoked instead of
breathing second hand kisses
I was pleased like I was the one he
put to his mouth and lit
he sheltered from the wind
and let burn so close to him

it felt familiar like home,
where smoke dusted the walls
and the inside of my family's lungs
where smoke left its imprint in that
same scent on his lips
and in my nostalgia I found myself
comfortable like I was the one
who smoked instead of
stealing second hand kisses
I was safe like I was the one he
packed away tight
took care to light
and held as long as he could

I put out fires by drowning them
in my demons but this one won't be
so easily extinguished since my demons
started burning out themselves
and in my recovery I found myself peaceful
like I was the one who smoked instead of
wishing for second hand kisses
I was still like I was the one he
handled like glass
craved in the night
and ****** dry

I kissed the boy who tasted like cigarettes
and he set me on fire.
I tasted the boy who kissed cigarettes
and he took me by surprise
but all along I was only borrowing
his second hand kisses.

In this world that is pressed
for deadlines,
I seem to march
at my very own pace.

Sit back in comfort
my favorite café
providing a perfect setting
for creating a world
out of random words.

softly
gently

murmured voices
speak in a way
only a poet
will understand.

I will write my muse,
sharing myself with those
who care to listen.

as my hot coffee
cools down,
my thoughts turn
to the one I love.

She has never known
how enough she is,
for proper words
have always failed me.

And so I write
my words for her.

For when my time has come,
let it be said
'he finally told her,
better late than never'

I write my words
to paint a picture,
one of hope,
of love.

I’d awaken passion,
if only I could.
We could walk on beaches,
listen to ocean’s roar,
dedicating that moment
to the rest of our lives.

I’d dry your tears,
write your pain,
your suffering
into the depths
of the sea.

My pen draws pictures
of swirling lines,
surrounding us,
holding us close
in each other’s arms.

I pray my inkwell
never runs dry,
my quill flying across
pages of love.

I pray my words
comfort you,
warm you
and fill you
with pictures of us.
Together always.

I spent my day
counting blessings.

One gift of life
that my father
and mother
welcomed as me.

I know how to count,
two follows one,
but amidst much thought
I can't see three.

I'm stuck, entrenched,
mired in the glue
that holds me
where I am.

This second blessing,
the one that defines me,
is like manna from Heaven.

Two hands, holding steadfast
through ups and downs
life and death
sickness and health.

Two looks, eyes to eyes
passing an understanding
through a mere glance.

Two hearts, intertwined
to become one,
beating to a cadence
of love.

I counted my blessings
and got stuck at two.

For there it was
Me and you.

It’s amusing how I glorified your every word.
made them up to be immeasurable and compelling,
playing them over and over in my head.
Your beautiful and electric words,
caressing my ears as they brushed your lips.
Floating from mind to page,
your pen as your loves instrument.
Hypnotic and sincere that made life a fairytale,
yet looking back on those times now they lack conviction.
No more than merely ramblings of a desperate boy,
who played on girls wishes to be princesses and be the centre of a love story.
These words you let out were just strung into lines on a page,
in attempt to fill

the

space.

So, What do you think about love sweetheart?
She closed her eyes and replied:
Where Am I supposed to start with, It's a big thing to talk about, Love is not just a word, It's a life changing word..
Honey, Love.. Simply is such a blessing sense, feel, and deep inside touch.
A lot of things have changed on me, behaviors, manners, thoughts, emotions, and feelings.
Honey, Love made me an optimistic person, the way I look to life now, is away better then past.. Now..
I have dreams..
I have ambitions..
I have brighter future for both of us, not for me alone..

Love is the meaning of sharing the life along together, Love is different.
Different than I used to think it is.