Here's to you, Here's to me
May us all drink two, maybe three

Here's to beer, Here's to wine
Long as you're here, we should all be fine

That Kind of Day

Woke up late
Too much wobbly pop
The night before a blur

Race to get ready is on
Make up applied
Toast burnt

Out the door
Car won’t start
A bus is no fuss

Miss it by that much
When it begins to rain
Mascara running in shame

Hail a cab
Hair dripping went
Am I there yet

Andreas Simic

Cigarette smoke.
Lingering through the air.
His long black coat.
And his scraggly blonde/ginger hair.

He isn't perfect to others,
But he is mine.
His hugs cause me to melt.
His eyes are mesmerizing.

Yes he's coated in the smell of
Cigarettes.
But he is mine.

Such a beautiful intelligent mind he has.
Such a smart man he is.
I'd say a boy but he is beyond that intellectual phase.

His intelligence would blow many away.
I can almost say he's lost his mind.
But after all,
He is mine.

Sneaking around in the dark of the night.
The gentle glow of the street lights.
Often times he brings me food.
Other times he comes bringing gifts of hugs.

Long warm hugs.
The smell of him and his cigarette breath.
Sour but soothing.
Only because I know,
He is mine.

Devoted to this man I am.
Dedicated and loyal.
This boy at heart,
A man in reality.

Intelligence bearing.
Beautifully deranged.
His mind is full of pain.
Yet he is mine.

He numbs my pains.
He causing the nightmares to run in fear.
Yes he is the man I hold ever so dear.

I'm not one to dedicate poems to people of love interest.
But he is more than an interest.
He is a beautiful toast.
That's a bit of an inside joke.
But again he is mine.

In goes my heart,



Here I turn the ****-



Pop!




Out goes your love,
Enveloping me with your warmth

A morning haiku
About my food for breakfast:
Scrambled eggs with toast.