Every poet needs a muse.

I have never forgotten.
Have you? Even once?

As I let you slip through the cracks? I wouldn't blame you if you did.
But I know that you haven't.

It's funny. Talking about distance.
because in spite of it all,
nobody has touched me like you.

Do you still feel it sometimes? Do you still feel like visiting me in my dreams? Or when I'm on top of the mountains, sipping in the beauty of the world? The need to inspire? Inspiration itself.

I do. Constantly.
It's everything I've ever wanted. The loveliest thing I've ever known.

The way you manage to make words come alive. Like air. The way you could make them dance into my lungs and rush into my bloodstream
always leaves me craving more. Addicted.

I'm at the mercy of your language.
Your fingers.
Your smile.

Your words are eternal. Taken as scripture. I bow to them every day. Praise them. Share them. Let them complete me. Give me purpose.
Reflected in pale moonlight and written in the stars.

As I look up, into the infinity of darkness,
and see the words you left there,
I am left speechless.

I mean it too. That I fell. Hard. Impossibly.

We ended quickly. Abruptly. A car accident. An exchange of information. Words hurt, but wounds heal.

I know you've continued on. Effortlessly. Gracefully as you do.
But every single night, I still go to bed, with the desire of making love with our words. Tasting your syllables. Drinking them in. I long for a touch I haven't felt since you. In every conceivable way.

I shouldn't have left. I should have begged you to stay. I would have loved a little more time with you.

I'd wait forever for it.

Maybe you shouldn't, but muses don't work that way.
There's nothing more heartbreaking than a poet without a muse.
A sky without stars.
A page without words.

I'm selfish in wanting your presence.
Your poetry.
It's cruel of me to desire something so deeply.

But nothing could be better
than knowing that
there was a little infinity
where I captured your heart
felt your soul
connected with you
and became a muse
myself.

A dream come true.
We could have blossomed into something breathtaking.

Would it be terrible if I said I think of you always?

Our window is an ever changing frame
Left to its own devices
It never moves from its placement in our old home
Yet never shattered once
On good days, nothing but the ticking clock is disturbed
Those days of silly arguments we forgot
The moment the ice cream man begun his serenade
On bad days grey inkblots would erase that baby blue
Forcing cabin fever down our throats
At the loss of movie night
Yet there are the nights you sit alone, lost in the races
Between short lives of the rain cloud's children
Nights where you join the portrait's current mood
Our window is an ever changing frame
Capturing each moment of our existence
Replacing your trace

Don’t be scared
that 
I’ll ever forget you
.
Believe me:

I remember every

touch

and every

breath

as if it happened

yesterday.

a swarm of thoughts
as i read
as i write

1. sitting at a desk. i'm not alright.
2. seven birds hover.
3. can i escape the past?
4. is my life all that bad... i'm alright now.
5. bats that circle and block the sun
6. the ruler whipping down on my hands, my feet, my everything
7. souls gather and gather
8. oh the abuse i have suffered from you
9. lists and lists and lists and lists
10. my death. painful or peace?
11. shutupshutupshutup
12. unnecessary dreams and cliches
13. the wooden stick sits by you as i stare
14. the angry yelling words
15. tomanytomany
16. the end.

Memories of you linger and flicker
Over the sands of the time
In wonder I treasure those times together
When the feeling was sublime
You may be gone but not the thought
Of the love that once we knew
So when I pause to remember
In all candor, the thought of you renews
Good wishes I send — that’s all I can do
To the one in the end who loved me so true
For which I shall ever give thanks
Dearest one, I’ll think of you
At the setting of my sun
For once a upon a time
Love was all we knew
The glory of me and you
In the time when we were one