You fed my dreams, like a needle feeds my pain, through my broken veins:
A silver bullet to my heart, your lies ripping me apart.

When I turned, looking for your burned,
bruised, broken words, in a noisy world,
I found silent screams...
same as when I'm waking from bad dreams...

Except when I called for you, you ran.
And when I waited,
my patience lashed, ripping the seems of my skin;
until my love bled out, like it had never been.

                                       You just keep walking. I'll stay. Plant my skin. Water it with this blood. I'll grow. And, I'll love.
                                        Maybe someday you'll see me. And, maybe someday I won't feel, you.

He never told her
Neither did she
That's how they wrote
Their 'Unspoken Love' story.

Love isn't spoken.
It's a silent conversation
     held in a glance,
or small gestures
     just to provide
     occasional reminders
     that you care.
Love isn't spoken.
It's sitting together
     and inching closer
     just to feel the touch
     of them against you.
Love is effort,
          concern,
     unbridled affection,
     and memorizing
     the sound of a voice
     until it becomes its own
     special kind of embrace.
No, love isn't spoken.

I guess u r leaving me behind
all that u have given of yourself to me
those memories u have caused with your laughter ,
your playfulness and exbuerance for life
I will miss, the fine juxtapose your presence created

You have changed me beyond myself
Though outwardly calm I may appear
This pretense I can hold on no longer
While inwardly I sear…and long..for u.

Go on move on, I cannot hold on to you forever
You are a free soul and nothing can stop your force

Momentarily I basked in your fond attention
your eyes searing my soul
Awakening in me a realization I myself did not know.

I thank you for those fond moments
Etched forever in my heart and soul
of your tenderness and the love that never spoke a word.

I adore the way my skin looks with yours.
Milky white against your caramel complexion.
Soft is the touch of love,
Yet heated by passion.
Pink lips part to taste,
Flesh so desirable.
I'd like to press upon you,
Souls intertwined.
Breath and beating hearts become our own music.
Time is still,
Worries lost....
You Are my Only focus.
Gently tracing curves with the lightest of finger tips.
Pushing the hair back from my face, Eyes meet,
A gaze that's held with looking beyond what's visibly seen.
Love lacks the true form of my heart colliding with yours.

My words linger,
trapped in the space
between my mind and my mouth.
Stuck in a limbo
below my stream of consciousness
and above any translation.

Running. Across the open green,
Mindlessly chasing, to what would seem
Like a pebble to this small world,
Nobody that knew him,
Could say his story was untold,
Because I could love to tell it,
Since I was two years old.

Every Saturday morning,
A stench filled the air,
One that was as awakening,
As a surprise that was so unfair.
It was him, cooking while we remained sound asleep,
It didn't really bother him,
He was the provider of this keep.

One won't realize what they have,
Until it is gone, o so gone.
He was the best dad,
That words unspoken toward him, couldn't even fawn.