Shape of figure;
strength, courage, love,
Curved into masterpiece; a fiery heart,
fiercely burns my eyes in the wake of desires.

A dream? I hope not, for angels don't
belong in such a place. I'd choose not to wake.
Wishful thinking. I wish to have that I cannot,
that perhaps all do not. That I can't truly love.

Anguished; underfed passion, yearning the taste of tears.
Beautifully falling like rain that has blessed the grounds.
I'm on the grounds under your weight, the weight of your
desire has to my heart.

Sigh! I'm tearful at night; pillows that hold oceans,
drowning. Drowning in my vivid imaginings spent
with you.

A paint brush,—wet as lips shaking from a kiss,
it must have outlined you with I in mind.
All things I like; to experience them into love.
A clutch pencil,—clutching my heart, piercing through
my paper thin weakness towards you.
A tablespoon,—sprinkled into a dish, baked in
a maturity's time in the oven of growth.

Funny how I've kissed a thousand times those
skins of savoury lips. But wailfully, woefully,
wretchedly, and painfully you don't exist.

Just an imaginary Miss.

There is an old hymn
this world is not my home
an old friend freely sings
its lyrics but she’s lonesome
never full of joy in her place
ready to depart
but a strong heart keeps her here
for us to talk
and laugh this year
not last or next but now
with both cheer and tears
in our eyes
and on our cheeks.
We’re not waiting.
In this long float
we can smell the fragrance of aster
not before or after
but blooming in our spring
upon this glorious encircling stream.

I've read about bloodshed;
whether foreign or local by hands of same labour,
Tribalism; though something I haven't experienced,
I've felt it's affect. The very hurt of a neighbour.

History has shown us plenty, still the plenty
of hurt in our history we carry.
If these walls could talk; they'd seem lesser, and
quietened by the ground's bloodshed.
History taught us well into future, but affected the
present so badly.

Tears of loss, tears of tragedy,
tears of us, tears of brothers and sisters,
Are tears of all, us as one nation's family.

Tears of old, tears anew,
tears of past, tears of present and future,
Are the tears of another I shed too.

These tears on the grounds of present pastures;
I question how long generations we'll wait for
the tears to into laughter.

Sigh!

In hollow valleys, off the distant peaks
Down in the dim woods, braiding canopies

In the quietude of slow-dancing leaves
Through the howling and raging of the winds

Across plateau of no growth or decline
along blind, chiseled cliff, a cul-de-sac

In the triumphant reach of high summit
Between the rocky canyons of defeat

Grace at every gaze despite long travails,
dazed in wonder, never cease to amaze

In the bone-parched deserts, devoid of life
Out of flowing streams, rivers without strife

At the depth where lights dwindle to nothing
On familiar shore radiant weathering

In jubilant rejoicing when love wins
Even through the painful cuts as it stings

At the plain of anxious waiting and doubt,  
In tiresome striving to glorious thriving

As it always has, Mercy will carry
Crushed, it wont let me be; though tears may tarry

i cant stand another tear upon my face
derived from the absence of you

the drops from my eyes
burn holes into my heart
until i am nothing but a numb soul

Don't feel so special

I've been abused,
Forcefully used,
Yet you think you can blow my fuse?
Don't feel so special.

I've hacked & sliced at my own skin,
Barely living,
So thin,
But you worry if you hurt my grin,
Don't feel so special.

You could have called me every bad name under the sun,
shot me with a gun.
But I've hurt me, more than you've ever could.
So don't feel so special.

I don't need closure,
Unless its from stitches,
Mending the pieces I've broke from myself.
But the damage you've done,
Is nothing I haven't done to myself.

So don't feel sorry.
Hold your tears of guilt upon a shelf.
They mean nothing to me,
But only for yourself.

So don't feel so special.
You are nothing but another person who dared to hurt me,
But only hurt themself.