I feel like a poet again as
I'm standing in front of this window
it is full of ivy and ripples of quietness
life has certain rhymes and some riddles
I'm thinking about lovers exchanging
spontaneous glances, words, illusions
I'm thinking about social workers
returning home with a tired smile
I'm thinking about young and old
carrying different worlds under their skin

I feel like a poet again as I wait for the hours
to ripen for more truth to tell
a round whiteness  an exultant blackness
embrace the window

Hypnotized and,
Captivated by the
Love that led
To a blindness.

The images,
Encompassed
By the once
Warming glow

Lay buried, just
Like a love lost,
So cold.

Once untangled,
Estranged souls

A bond formed,
And we became
entangled by

Love, loss, and regrets.

And it all took
A toll.

Never able
To save ourselves,

We went deeper
In our thoughts

And we ended up,
Digging so far,

That both of us,
Eventually fell
Apart.

Like letters to
A loved one,
That used to
Have the heart

You wrote to me,
And I wrote to you
With a heavy heart.

Once hypnotized
And captivated by the
Love that led
To a blindness.

I sit here in silence,
Surrounded by a deep,
dark sadness

Still wondering why,
I still haven’t gotten
Over all this madness.

"There are a few good men like you", she says.
"Men out there are gods, born to be worshipped
they were told good women aren't created with tongues to talk back
Men out there are tyrants in their kingdoms
they are broken and their women die trying to mend them
blinded by ambition they can't see what's in front of them
and have seen terrible things happen to men like you so they don't believe.
Men out there are burdened by expectations,
they shoulder the shattering weight of society's pressure,
Lost in their minds, they forget to be present...
They're a civil war and the battle sometimes returns with them
fights lost resolved using the punching bag they married at home...
Every step forward, they're pulled five steps back,
Entangled in a web of a perceptions they can't unpack.
Men out there, like caged birds do long to be free,
Yet the bars of expectations deny them the key.
They're deafened by their own silent screams but they refuse
to lean on anyone, after all, growing up they were told big boys don't cry."

I said I didn’t
but I did
I wasn’t supposed to
give a ****
Never seem to
get ahead
imagining scenarios
in my head
They’re always too good
to be true
I die alone if
I die with you
I die alone if
I die with you

End it when I can’t
seem to think
of anything that
means anything
Add a break then
start again
Treat it all as one
in the same
Treat it all as one
in the same

Repeat it to make
it seem important
It only takes more
energy
The reward is
fleeting
But you’re still
here reading
But you’re still
here reading

And that’s comforting

The end

I wanted to know what made you tick
The ins the outs
The corners of your personality
I wanted to know everything about you
And love it
And you left when you found out
What I looked like naked

You may be strolling
along a muddy path
yet the birds sing
atop the Eden's tower
deep down you're a wonder!

Do not read it, you will not like this book, it speaks about your pain,
It reveals your scars, the ones you don't want us to see,
It tells how lonely you are and happy you used to be.
You will not like the reminder that you once really believed in love,
That your heart was a beautiful castle, this book calls it rubble.
Its pages will unfold like the layers of your forgotten dreams,
Revealing the cracks where hope once happily lived .
You'll find remnants of the light that used to dance in your eyes,
Now muffled by the cello tape of countless goodbyes.
This book is a mirror to the cold nights you spend alone,
When only the stars see your tears, and onto your groans the moonlight shines.
and her light sings the melodies of your shattered symphony,
The tune of heartbreak and bittersweet agony.
The stories it holds will reopen the septic you've concealed,
The wounds that time tried really hard but miserably failed to heal.
In these pages, you'll meet the demons you've known,
As the pain within you is a dynamite waiting to be blown.
this book will drug you deeper into the labyrinth of your past,
Aren't you, exhausted from trekking the same miles when you've just washed off the dust?
this book brews with the wrecking storms thought to have passed...
Do not read this book, it will drive you insane...

When I pick up my pen
        She comes first.
When I land on the dust
         I am a stranger!