Nothing will be wasted.
I shall lip everything back,
Lift my clumsy and the naughty,
The ones that never made it
To your heart-wall.

You cannot blame me for thinking
That the flowers are all the same,
Your lily, the opened rose, the petunias.
O this garden of a body you have.
You be-tremble me, Love, even now.

So now, tonight, ever,
We will save them up,
Oh I will kiss them back to your mouth,
This love thing,

To your tongue so tender,
From your neck,
Your legs so slender,
Your shoulders, your waist,
Those young *******,
Then to your soul.

And pretend,
I won't do it all,
All over again.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

She fell for me, too slow,
As the fabric was, off her bed,
     Slithering,
An hour late for all night long,
Few seconds close to dreaming,
The moon's crippling crescent,
The sleight, the curves of these waters,
     All pronations that are for me,
     Were for me, and mine only, only
That everything smells like fresh pajamas,
Only that this time, for a very long time,
I am waiting, and it sounded
     Like true love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I vow to love you with my every,
     Every now and then.
So every now and then, I might hurt you,
For great chances had their risky clause,
And so your soul will wash your cheek,
Your nose red from having pinched by me,
     Every now and then.

So every now and then,
Every now and then, you will cry, weep,
And tears will start to dig through my clothes,
But remember from where they fall,
For those are what I fell for.

     Even now. Even then.

© 2015 J.S.P.

The fissure in the skies
(yours or mine)
Are not of distance, nor time,
But of our hearts' disbelief
Of these satellites,
Of these static, static stars,
From ever colliding,
     From ever entwining.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Our love was
(has got to be)
Among the best, the immensest
And the most baffling
Of all the optional things.
We willed it
     To be like this.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I want to write my soul out
To pour it on the paper
To ease my breaking mind

But I am too confused
The words refuse to flow

Since the feelings
Won't come out as words
I want to release them with tears
But I am not allowed
I am supposed to be strong

Since the feeling
Won't come out as tears
I want to release them through blood
But no one can ever know
About this excruciating pain

I want to put this
Horrible pain in words

But it refuses to come out

And holding it in
Is making me want to die

This is what happens
When I meet
My old friend
Writer's block

Skillful poet still in shock
He / She suffered writer’s block
PwL 6/5/15