Some nights into the fantasy  world I sink ,
Eyes closed as I visualize you each second ,
The shape of your body-
your sensitive skin.

Lost in your eyes,
I stretch my hand and pull you closer,
Your body against mine,
Our lips touch,
Our tongues entangled,
The soft and slow moans fill our room,
As we dance to the music of our sweet sounds,

From a far-
we can  hear our heartbeats,
as our souls sync.

Into the wilderness we fly,
If this love is a sin ,
why does it feel so pure
and holy  loving you?

The morning sun reflects
Across the leaves of the red-tipped photinia,
Flowing forth to accent the brilliant
White of the oak leaf hydrangea.

Peacefulness rests solidly on the scene.
There is time for talk and a chance to listen.

Life is calm, except for the roughness at the edges.
Disagreements suddenly become prominent.

How does one disagree?
When do topics become as rough as sandpaper?
How hard does one scrape the soft edges of ideas?
If rubbed too deeply, do emotions sour, curdling like overnight cream left unrefrigerated?

Can we play with these ideas like juggling bottles in the air?
If they are dropped, are they erroneous, becoming shards swept to the garbage?

Righteousness and reason override relationships. We must think alike if we are to be maintained.

Midday has arrived; sunshine dominates. Hydrangeas and the red-tipped leaves now glow the shade of seafoam,
Shining as clearly as a meadow.

Have our ideas become more lucid, more detailed, more correct?
Were we willing to discard what was deemed baggage, too wrong to carry beyond today?  

What too has become of us together? Did our arguments massage so intently our intellects that the bruising might not heal?

What is it like to be a prophet?
To bleed visions the world calls madness,
to carry the storm in your lungs
and still be asked to speak sweetly.

I ran.
Through temples, through time, through the mouths of sleeping gods.
I ran, hoping to outrun the fire,
only to find my shadow already waiting-
etched into every horizon by hands not my own.

The gods marked me with knowing,
then stripped me of the right to be believed.
They call it a gift.
But it is a wound that sings.

Let the sky tremble at my silence now.
Let the earth remember what it means
to be cursed with truth.

I want to enjoy us
As long as it lasts
To dive deeper into you
With every breath

I want us to remember
That we're not endless, love
Is in every moment here
Whenever we are present

Will you really embark
On this journey with me?
It may sometimes get dark
Too dark for us to see...

With a broken heart life seems heavy, I know
But your soul's still alive,
And sure, we can mend the wounded parts,
Together we have two strong hearts.

May we remember
To surrender for as long
As it lasts,
I speak to you of trust,
Through guilt, shame, pressure, fears and doubts,
I hope you hear this quiet voice
Sometimes my tears and admiration
Show you my very deep sensation...

I am on the path of self-reconnection
Of deepening my own relation,
I have come out of the stagnation
I love in waves and move in states of
Self-reconciliation.

Share more with me!
I love your soft kind voice,
I love your being,
It is full of joy!
Is love coincidence
Or is't a conscious choice?

I can imagine everything as new,
And brace for miracles with you.

When will you let go?
Your love is like a thorny rose.
Love means letting go.

I shivered, while you sat still—
across the room, laughing,
asking about my day,
buying me flowers.
My eyes would search,
x-ray through clouds,
to find you—
tall and smiling.

I shivered, while you sat still,
as the AC blasted,
lectures of the gods lingered.
I know you felt it too
when I walked away.
Lucky us—
distance bought fondness.

I shivered, while you sat still,
talking about our lives,
holding me through the night,
smiling at the sky,
watching the fireworks die.
It’s okay.
It might work out again.
The eleventh time is the charm.

I shivered, while you sat still,
next to your wife,
smiling—
and I finally froze.