Two tender eyes
witnessed our love, my love:
a black velvet night
and a red, trembling rose.

The night, alas,
whirled past the galaxy,
then dissolved
in heaven’s warm embrace.
I remember...
why don’t you?

O rose! My red rose,
the envoy of longing,
the whisper of my heart,
gifted into your palms.
Neck so proud, head held high,
you plucked her down,
petal by petal,
with your playful, wicked fingers
as you looked through me.

And now you ask,
Love? What love?
Ah, if only my life
could turn to a pilgrimage,
wandering in search
of that night we lost.

Let me breathe my soul
into the withered bloom,
so night and rose return,
and bear their silent witness:
yes, you loved me too.

I crack it open softly
letting a single sliver of soft golden light
pour in, a solitary ray of sunshine breaking
through the clouds.
I hear the whisper of her steady breathing,
rhythmic waves ebbing and flowing,
on the slow inhale of the sea.
Her old penny copper hair twinkles in the light,
strands borrowed from a seraph's braid.
I envy her easy slumber,
the way her lips part with the stillness
of full relaxation.
I tiptoe across the carpet,
a sentinel seeking to capture the moment
in a bottle, or in my marrow.
I sit beside her and marvel at the miracle of her,
how she was forged from my very blood,
from my very bones,
smirking; she has my spirit too.
The world will not be ready,
not for her fierce blue eyes,
nor the blade I'll teach her to wield with her tongue
and a spine that won't need fire to be steeled.
I kiss the top of her resting head;
she does not stir.
I retreat in tiptoe,
close it delicately behind me,
and I pray.
I pray she never forgets the joy
of floating bubbles.
I pray she always uses the word NO
as powerfully as the age of 3 declares it.
I pray she will continue to run to me,
for hugs,
for comfort from every dark,
for love that will cover over every hurt,
and tend to every need.
And I pray she could always know this peace
and the guard of a door
opened and closed
by a heart, humbled and grateful.

When spirit called, I chose the flame,
To walk the earth and bear a name.
But did I see the depths ahead—
The nights so dark, the tears I’d shed?

To feel the ache that breaks apart
The boundless edges of the heart.
To lose myself, to fall, to grieve—
And still, in silence, not to leave.

Like stars that fall yet do not die,
Like wings that form before they fly,
I sank into the chrysalis—
A holy womb of pain and bliss.

Yes — I knew. I heard the song.
That pulled my soul where I belong.
To feel what angels only dream:
The raw divine in each extreme.

Bloom it all or blow it all,
The character has done it all.
Why do you hide? Why don’t you shine?
The world is hard, the price feels fine.

Define yourself—write through the night.
The place is quiet, yet you cried.
Find the paper, find the light,
Stick to the bed, write something right.

Love is false—yet somehow right,
Still, you fight in this long night.
Your blood says it all,
Your time isn't bright.
Yet still you fight to define the night,
To learn the quiet,
To reach the site.

Long hair, bright eyes, pretty face,
Dressed your beauty in this rhyme.
Hiding from you, writing for you,
Admiring the last of you.

Don’t want money,
Don’t know the game,
The beauty is lost,
The rhyme is plain.

cracks in my knuckles,
notches in my palms,

I fantasize that
you braid my hair and
us lying
       curled around eachother
on my bed.
you
       breathing soflty
inside my arms
as we look
       through the roof's window
at the night,
       crashing gently.

I´ve shed my thoughts
into the silence of nights
nowhere to run,
I´m holding the gun.

I´m the one
trying to outrun,
hosting the hunt,
running at the front.

I´m my own prey,
gasping for the airway,
catching myself at the bay.

I want to be targeted,
not for you to misinterpret
I´d love to witness
my breath quickness,
how you´d hunt me-
then I´d be free.

With every breath I count,
there are few I miscount,
there´s one I´d steal
from you, to heal.

I’ll take this panic attack
And drive her car right off the road
Off the bridge, that sinking feeling
About to sleep and not explode

In the shadow of water
I know your true face.
not in the shadow
but in the feeling of
being in it.

…do you understand?

there’s a coolness
that wraps around me
just right,
like when evening comes
and the southern sun
finally relents its strength of illumination
to the unknowing of night.

through the shade of a wave
opaque enough to dilute
the intensity of the light
but not enough
to stop it from reaching me,
I recognize you.  

who are you
that you should linger
in my inner sight
like a sunspot
staining my vision wherever I look,
changing colors
behind my closed eyes?

a stranger?

perhaps I’ve known you
in other lives.
maybe we were lovers.
maybe we were almost lovers.
maybe this is our dance.
we circle each other
like leaves in an eddy,
a brief swirl of proximity
before we’re shot back out
to the flow of the river
like children on a slide,
laughing in our innocence—
in our ignorance.

then comes the
inevitable separation,
the distance,
the peculiar ambiguity
we wear like a skin—
like a camouflage.

but I still see you,
from time to time,
behind the eyes of a stranger

and

I still feel you
whenever I am in
the shadow of water.

Again today
I went to bed as the sun rose.
The creeping blue-grey dawn
signalled to me
it was time to sleep.

My sleep does not come easily though
and many a night,
I sit through the dark hours
waiting for that dawn to come.

Should I worry that my sleep
comes only as dawn breaks?

I don’t mind;
the night holds no fear for me
in fact, I relish those dark hours,
the solitude,
when all is silent,
when all is calm.

And when I do sleep,
it is fitful and fraught,
just a few fretful hours
embellished by strange visions.

And on waking,
I am not always refreshed
but the days are long enough
for a few more hours
of fretful rest
before the sun sets
and I can again enjoy
the dark hours
in my solitude.

remember the feeling of falling,
before you enter the land of dreams?
i felt that in your presence,
not knowing what the future deems.

felt when I looked into your eyes,
and once our fingers intertwined.
we face an uncertain tomorrow,
with both our hearts aligned.

but no one can ever be prepared
to face dark, rainy nights,
when you've gotten used to sunny days,
and nights under bright city lights.

opened my eyes, realizing the fall.
head throbbing, but I'm awake.
was it a dream? a nightmare?
why does my chest still ache?

the line blurs between real and fake,
a memory, or a soul’s mistake?