Puddle.
           One day in the future I hope you open
            your eyes after it's rained,
            catching your reflection in the
            gathering
            water,
            and find yourself,
            free,
            alive,
            happy.

Youth.
            In an instant, her eyes widened,
             and I saw an innocence long lost,
             as tears began to form.

Blood.
           A stained white wood door,
            splattered in red,
            as the painter again,
            got lost in his head.

How to fix past mistakes.
           You can't. They're done.

Rope.    
          Tie us together,
          and hang out memories from the trees
          we used to climb.
          Suspend us forever with a infinite knot
          on fire.

How to Live with Yourself.
           With a song every morning.
           With change driven by guilt.
           A love never ending.
           A desire to be real.
                But all poetry aside,
                      With closed eyes,
                      deep breaths,
                      an empty mind,
                      and a wish for-

Coffee.
           A bitter taste,
            awakening touch.
           Sweet like cream and sugar,
           warm like cinnamon,
           I need you every morning,
           every day,
           all the time.

Milk Chocolate,
           stuck to my mouth,
           drying it.
           Always longing for something warm to
           wash it down with,
           but you just laugh and call it cute,
           as you wipe the stain from my face.

I miss you.
           Which you, I don't know.
            Whether the one I knew,
            or the one you are.
            I would die one thousand times just
            to see you again.
            It's harder still to know that others do,
            because you're gone,
            only to me.

I value the lips to a modest dream
The fresh lipstick – outlining one’s imagination
In soft brush strokes; as the dreams of my child
Are quite distant nowadays, still silhouettes to a recent age
The metaphysical footprints of walking in faith, the path
It’s… so narrow on the trail of yellow grass; the sun is on
My back, like a long-legged shadow in this urban darkness

Questions bring up less of their answers- my life a riddled
Experience on a dusty path, where manure litters the street,
Pretending the smell is all so vague- but those **** flies!

I am alone, patrolling the ideas of one’s calling, beneath a
Crescent moon – from youthful screams, too loud to hear
The purpose to all my chaotic dreams: perhaps now,
I’m finally awake in the world, to see what it all means?

I wonder what sweet statements she said
Shall spoil every single thought
Like a pillow to cushion your head
Piece of heart for which you've fought
Not fit for high standards
Anybody can stop to eat
You squirm as I watch you take a gander
Between my hands feel heat
As a snake draws to warm places
Over coals crimson flames dance
To you love is a series of high-speed chases
Always receiving another chance