An assortment of constellations scatters her surface,
An aura of serenity cascades across her conscious,
Benevolent is the truth vested within her,
Divine is the mystics she pursues,
A wanderer weary from travel she rests upon the fallen star,
Regaining her momentum to stride across the dreamscape she ponders,
A silent soul forevermore,
Searching for the essence infinite.

Through the journey of life,
I followed where my nose has led.
A majority of my story,
on pages now turned and read.

There is a change in me,
a need to seek some other guide.
For my nose at times has led,
to so many places where I cried.

So short the time remaining in my book,
I want to follow my own heart.
To smile and laugh again,
and let love and passion play its part.

Somewhere out there,
there must be a lover that feels the same.
Yet I don't know where you are,
and I don't even know your name.

I hold a passion and a love for you,
so vast it would cover all the sea.
My heart cries out for some reply,
who and wherever you may be.

I am both a repository of unused love,
and so very much all alone
So whomever you may be,
find me soon, life is pointless on my own.

Pretending

I could pretend you’re still here,
me listening to the beat
of your heart while you sleep.
Inhaling the scent of your body
As I lay next to you,
pretending.

I could pretend hearing your voice,
Telling me that you love me,
Catch your eyes in the mirror
Flirting with me while I watch
As you dress and I sit
pretending.

I could pretend holding you,
Embracing your hurt away,
Drying your tears with a kiss,
Sweep your hair from your face
As you look at me,
pretending.

I could pretend and not live the truth
The truth is you were temporary;
like signature in the sand
erased by ocean's tide,
or autumn wind that carried you away
like golden leaves in flight.

I could lend pretending for faith
on whose wings your soul
has risen beyond the sky
And waiting patiently
my selfish heart beats
pretending.

No words
slip from my tongue.
No words
emerge from my fingertips
as they race across the keyboard.
No words
spill from my mind,
trace the recesses of my brain,
leave my lips with the taste of butterscotch.
I have traveled far and wide,
from one pole to the other
then so far west I'm back in the east,
but I still have no words.
No words
to describe this feeling,
the one at the back of my throat every time I speak,
the one tingling at my fingertips whenever I press them against the keys,
the ones zigzagging my mind from dawn to dusk and even after that.
No words
to describe the tightness of my chest,
whether from the way she tucks her hair behind her ear
or the weight of today on my shoulders.
The thoughts --
I chase them, but they always slip away
just as I can feel them in my grasp.
No words, no thoughts, no way
to finish this poem
not when it's ever-flowing, ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-there.