There’s a third space
That’s not quite here
Yet not quite there.
It’s a dark place
With no clear light
Other than the fireflies
That hover close listening,
To our quiet whispers
To our quick mumbling
And to the declarations.
There’s a slight drizzle,
But I don’t mind,
Because your voice is
      My umbrella
      My blanket
      My everything.
Close my eyes, listening
To the muffled backg­round,
It makes me think
I’m there with you.
But not quite there –
In a third         space,
With you beside me.
I don’t hangup first
Because I want to
Listen for your guard
As it falls         away
Some where in         that

                 Third space.

i keep telling myself i'm moving on
that i don't love you any more
but these paper boats keep drifting to you
and i know that i'm too far in
to swim back to shore.
my eyes keep drooping closed but my hands won't stop moving, i need to keep writing,
can't get enough of you, i told you how much i loved you and you let me go

a gentle shower
with love from the monsoon
splashing footsteps rang
a hasten pace
soon escalates
into
a thunderstorm of fury.

squeezing
my heart
dry
remnants
are the footprints
you left in my darkest hour.

When i am with you
Even depression feels beautiful

Lazy seems the sun today
helped aloft
by a flight of pelicans
in formation
like B-52s returning
to safe haven
after a sortie
Inland they go
with the gulls
during this calm
before the storm
The smell of a slowly swelling
angry sea awakened
drowning out the roses
by the garden path
soon to be scattered petals
across the village
The morning calm
belies the night
to come.

r ~ 7/3/14