my lover is worlds away,
yet the red thread still remains on my pinkie.
i hold onto a shred of hope, wishing that one day...
that thread will lead her back to me.

my lover is the moon and i, the sun.
celestial beings in a game of cat and mouse.
i run after her until my heart is fatally done,
hoping that we will meet in our now empty house.

my lover does not know,
i will forever love until my heart dies.
and to the ends of the Earth, i would go,
to see once more, those Pretty Eyes.

my love, you are worlds away, but i
will never say a final goodbye.

(a sonnet in iambic pentameter)

I was drawn to you, from the first instant
something about you aroused my senses
a message unspoken, and insistent
that could somehow bypass my defenses.

I couldn’t show it, you couldn’t know it,
so I sat quietly and ignored you.
When chasing dreams, love is unbefitting
this I’d been told, and so, it must be true.

When I met you again, you were funny,
not what I assumed, you were something new.

Hashtag, as a boyfriend, he’s been money,
such was the start of our kissing booth truth.

(An exercise to write a sonnet in iambic pentameter)

With heavy heart, I offer my remorse,
for I'm too tired to dance this weary eve.
The echoes of my workday's tireless chores
linger, leaving naught but fatigue's relief.

Oh, believe me, I hate to disappoint,
for the music tempts me to sway and dance.
But the hours I've toiled, each task and each point,
have drained me to a tired nudnik, perchance.

My spirit, once bright, now longs for respite,
to find solace in rest and heal my self.
Though my love for dance burns hot like cordite,
exhaustion demands I stay on the shelf.

Forgive me, my friend, tonight I must rest,
but once refreshed, we’ll fete and dance with zest.

this sickening feeling is easy to return to
like caffeine sinking a hole in my stomach.
I thought I was earning a thicker-skinned future
but it gives me more extreme things to get high from.

sometimes I figure I’d make a good escort
yet just want another soft place to land on.
my eyes glaze over at all the disgusting
pieces of others. i gorge them like peaches.

some days laughing seems unsightly don’t it?
will you still love me if i lose my temper
or how would it change me? the scent of vanilla
is more pungent than I can stand.

I will drink anything sweetened which calls me
I can resist anything til I try it.

You are such a faithful mirror i stand
Close to see myself as best i can. Which
Is hard to do with both eyes closed in such
Fierce a fashion as is my habit and
Pattern. But here and now this you and i
Walk affirmed to one another without
Twisting our minds to suit and please the thoughts
Trailing mud arisen from the rank sty
Of selfishness in the so called other.
Some may see a forced bond with jostling dance.
Let the blind bang their heads in ignorance.
United in chords of friendship freer
Than life, or death perhaps, we move between
The narrow gates to search for hell, and heaven.

Oh still-warm vision of my heart's delight,
Your crusty, crunchy skin and doughy heart,
Your sweet aroma with tears blurs my sight,
And makes me yearn to taste your every part.

My doctor says you'll be the death of me,
Blood sugar and triglycerides too high,
But I don't care, for my love sets me free,
And of one thing or other we must die.

Come, spend some time with me, bask in my love,
The simple pleasures are the best, one knows,
We're meant to be, we fit like hand in glove,
The more I have you, the more hunger grows.

Alas, I cannot live with only you,
Charcuterie and wine are vital too.

White feathers of snow tufts
plume themselves upon icy branches
marred by frost's biting advances,
stoicly waiting to be sloughed.

Rainfall in a torrential downpour
crashing upon all of the branches
cascading waterfalls of second chances—
again and again, drop to the forest floor.

Sparking flickers of light through clouds
can only barely illuminate the kestrel
that finds fit to prey on the sparrow I let slip.

Midsummer draping me in a lethargic shroud
swaddled around heart and lungs to slowly settle,
the lucky charm momentarily escapes my grip.

Reformed euangelist of higher beautie
And higher loue that springeth forth from Truth,
Thou didst amend, according to thy dutie,
Thine indiscretions born of lustfull youth,
And didst so well, with wisdom from the tooth.
Repentance liued will giue the liuer life,
But sinne, redoubled daily, death and strife.
I read repentance in thy later verses,
And see the visions of the heauenlies.
Thy poetry baptizes and immerses
The rapt reader in sights diuine who sees
Life and the vanity of vanities.  
Saluation doth belong to those who bear
Witness of Him, the liuing Truth, in prayer.