Sometimes it's hard to see, to put into words just how much you mean to me.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

Time has been our friend, all but for a while.
I'm glad that I could be the reason you regained your smile.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

"How are you taking this so well?" I hear her say.
If only she knew I was in agony every day.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You touched my heart, my mind and my soul in a way that I thought no one ever would.
It's just so cruel that fate showed us what we wanted, but to keep it we never could.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You were the lock and I was the key,
Together it would set us free.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

These words I have rush endlessly around my head,
I dare not say them so I remain quiet instead.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

Into my life you came, my very essence you did capture.
So much I wished we could've had our happily ever after.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

You see my smile and ask if I'm ok,
But what can I do, what more should I say.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

A piece of my heart will always be with you,
To remind and reassure whenever you feel you can't make it through.

A piece of your heart will always stay with me,
To remind me of the time you set me free.

three words, eight letters, three syllables

I want to say it.
Lord should I say it?
Often I want to say it.
Vast amounts of times I've wanted to say it.
Every fibre in my being wants to say it.
You need to say it.
Only I can say it
Underneath it all, I ask myself should I really say it?

Whisky in my tea,
When cold bites and wind blows
A deep sip soothes me.

Dusk falls as I lay in your arms, I return to life for your glimpse of warmth upon my form, I listen to your lush voice coming as the waterfall of sound from your lips to my ears, I could not have telled when you arrived from the dark as the cologne of a long lost friend with the scent of celestial tenderness, I invite you to never let me go, for I still carry you as the halycon of my heart.

I must look ridiculous
to these other café patrons—
just a woman with orange-dyed hair
blinking back stubborn tears,
trying not to cry
into her honey, lemon, and ginger.

But I sit there, half-failing
to maintain my composure.
I look anywhere else—
up at the ceiling,
out the window,
trying not to meet anyone’s eyes.

These tears dare to seep,
but this sadness needs to steep—
not pour.
Or else they'll overflow
in overwhelm.
I must take the helm.

So I take a sip:
that warm, sweet bitterness
rights the ship.
And the gentle calm
soaks back in.
They may glance over and wonder
What must be on her phone
To evoke such emotion?

Oh, don't mind me
I'm just writing poetry
about a silly girl,
and her hopes for understanding
Falling onto deaf ears yet again
and again,
and again,
and again
One more long swill
A sharp intake of breath
They prickle at my eyes,
Again

My teacup is empty -
I think I'll need another ***
For the sake of my sanity
I cannot let them see it pour
For a flood, an empty teacup
Has begot

The wind wails,
rattles the glass,
claws at the trees,
shakes the bones of the house.

Rain slams down,
rivers racing,
thunder grumbling,
lightning splitting the sky apart.

But here—

Flames flicker,
logs crack,
embers glow,
heat seeps into the floor.

Blankets pile,
heavy, soft,
tucking me in,
wrapping me whole.

Sweater sleeves,
loose and worn,
slip past my hands,
stretched by years of holding on.

A mug of cocoa,
steam curling,
scent of cinnamon,
warmth pressed to my lips.

The storm rages,
wind howls,
windows shudder—

But I am still.
Eyes droop,
fire whispers,
the night holds me close.

Breath deepens,
muscles loosen,
the weight of the day melts away,
and silence settles soft around me.

Fingers twitch once,
then rest,
the world outside growing quieter
as the warmth lulls me deeper.

The fire crackles,
soft as a sigh,
and sleep comes slow,
a quiet invitation
to drift into peace.

She is my peace
her arms my warmth
her smile my joy
her love, my home.

The heat of midday has passed
giving way to a cool evening breeze.
The Sun is slowly falling into the horizon
and its beams cast lengthening shadows.

Other than the gentle rustling of the trees,
as the wind breathes over the leaves,
the only sounds are the trilling of insects
and the glorious birdsong
sharing the warmth of a summer’s eve.

We sit in silence,
letting the warm rays caress us,
basking in the tranquility of the scene.

I feel my eyes growing heavy
as a calmness envelops me
and a sense of joy
washes away my cares.

You whisper,“Look!”
and opening my eyes
I catch my breath as I view the sky
turning vibrant orange and red
as the Sun touches that distant horizon.

People count the years
by candles and quiet tears.
The twenties, they say,
are when we wait
for the first cry
from a miracle
just learning to breathe.

But some of us, like me,
never quite grow up.
Peter Pan weeps
each time the rain brushes my shoulders.
I come alive again
only in fleeting moments,
like the string that’s slipped
from a flying kite.

Just days ago,
that child stirred again —
flickering like a candle,
reaching toward her teacher,
a man with nothing
but quiet grace,
yet rich in the kind of ways
that make you believe in yourself.

She longed to share
a small bright win,
a spark like a candle’s tip —
just enough to set a heart aglow
beneath the gaze
that once gave her
presence
when the world turned away.

For the first time,
I wanted to tell
someone —
so fully —
like a child
unafraid to confess,
trusting there’d be
an empty seat,
and eyes that wait.

I once thought,
on the day I might break,
as wax melts
over a birthday cake —
would God have mercy
and let me return
as my teacher’s daughter?

But now I know —
even the most beautiful dream
can turn to dust
if we forget to hold the present
while it’s still here.
Even something lovelier
can still feel
like a passing crush —
picked up with wonder,
and dropped
when wonder fades.

Your smile brightens the room,  
like morning light spilling  
through open windows,  
chasing shadows into corners.  

It weaves warmth  
into the fabric of the day,  
each laugh a gentle ripple,  
softening edges of worry.  

In that glow,  
the world feels smaller,  
and hope sways  
like a flower dancing in the breeze.

Her hair so soft, so Luscious and bright.
how grateful I am to be here tonight.

You look like an Angel no others compare,
To be with you so little, it is not fair.

You're Gorgeous, you're Beautiful, you're such a Sweet heart.
What more could I say about you, where do I start?

My Darling you are amazing, more than you know,
The blood to my heart you make it flow.