Your diamond pattern repeats infinitely, or, perhaps,
Just as far as I can see.
Every day you’re quite the same to me-
Only slightly hindering visibility
With metal woven consistency

And weather takes its toll,
Storms and rust and wind pressed gusts weakened your steel hold.
You were able to contain me for the years when I was small,
But time has made me tall
I can see the other side,
Not a blade of grass or leaf concealed, not a pebble can hide.

Illusion for peace of mind pretends to be a
Silver knight
Who protects against the wrong ones and holds in tightly the right
You may stand your ground, and
By each diamond trait in which you are bound
is a place for my heel to lift me up and around
and to leave your sacred space without a sound.

Crystallizing memories
Closing down the door
locking up the waterfalls
Slamming shut the cabinets
Placing chains on the handles
Wrapping it up
Putting it away down on memory lane...

Placing a rock to top it all
heavy gear I can't even take off
To make sure it's all done
Ensuring it won't open on its own...

Walking away
not looking back
let it sleep a hundred years
while I go on a hike.

If you find it someday
Just know the weight is heavy
The locks are in place
And the key thrown away...
The marks will be there
The tears and the cracks
And only if you're **** worth it
It will let you open it back up.

The lily of life, full of humility and devotion - the beautiful kind
that everyone would choose to pick from the fields I think you'll find.
One who defied the definition of a heroic inspiration,
your talent outshone all others; you caused quite the sensation.

You tenaciously grasped onto your stem of life
with the insidious poison of demise within your cells rife,
your colours darkening and fading away,
and yet you remained God's most beautiful creation each and every day.

As your petals fluttered down, by your side was your wife
while you heart-wrenchingly closed the circle of your life.
Now, we all shall miss watching you bloom through the days
and we will remember you, forever and ALWAYS .

A steady minded person might tell you that everything can be measured, calculated and converted into a language of black and white, solutions worked out with sharpened pencils.

How do I measure my heart breaking?

Tell me,at what rate did my heartstrings snap when he told me he was leaving?
How long until all of my broken bones turn into dust?
Calculate at what speed the tears rolled down my checks.
How many doctors will it take to sew my heart back together?
Was it when he crumpled me up like a wasted idea etched onto a piece of notebook paper that everything started to bleed?
What part of my brain did his gentle hands touch that woke my monsters from their slumber?
How many days until this aching in my swollen chest turns into a gentle throb?
When will I be okay again?

Takes this pain and your sharpened pencils and rip the numbers from the dead hands of his name. Do away with the emotion like he did away with me.

The way you make me feel is incredible. Nothing like the first, nothing like the second, I may have loved them but, not like I love you. I have never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do. My head filled with a no vacancy sign, but the electricity was out; somehow you fixed it. That "no" shines brighter than it ever has before.

When you said, "When you put your hands on me." The thought I caused you even just for a moment, to be afraid of me, just breaks my heart. For you filled my life with nothing, but natural smiles and joy rides. I wish I would have appreciated and it all more.

I'm the last man on this earth who should take anyone willing to enter my dark, closed off & broken structure. Anyone willing to enter my life of chaos and mystery is more daring than any human before. If you persist, you'll come to the place that shatters the pain those with reckless hearts left me. You'll open a pure, passionate soul. To get to the damaged site, you will have to fight through the maze. Those who hid my affection left no map. I think you were almost there. You had me but like most something in my destroyed halls of lost love. My guards spooked you off. You ran far away and left me empty again. Lonely again. I had begun to draft our story. I'm hoping you'll decide whatever barricade halted your journey, brings you back. My hand hurts from writing first drafts. I desire our story to be everlasting. So long the Bible envies it.

If you can make it to the place where love is locked, you have found the key. The key to my heart. Promise me to leave that no on my vacancy sign forever lit.

good, so good
that's what they say about it-
but when I peer down at the scrawl
led-dragged, so heavily
I know it can never be enough.

bokeh lights and smoke streams
an insignificant metaphor-
just as Love is an understatement.
bullet wounds don't match
how hard You hurt.

discontent gets old
and eight months of displeasure
of dead static psychosis
have rendered me useless;
defined me as dead
to whatever connection I held
with beauty, glory,
understanding.

so good, they say
as the pictures piece together
in the minds hungry eye,
starving to relate,
unknown to the fact
it can never catch the passion;
the poetry is powerless.