I don't want to stay
On autopilot anymore
I wanna go home with a
Bouquet of wild flowers
Cook your favorite meal
And dance with you to
A Chet Baker song on
Our balcony by the
Light of the stars

'We are the daughters of men who warned us about the news, and the missing girls on milk cartons and the sharp edge of the world.
They begged us to be careful, to be safe, and then told our brothers to go out and play.'

You used to feel good to me,
To imagine feeling you..
Lost whims of your kiss to be,
The way you touch and all do…
Something more secure of past,
Never truth of love to light…
Light to dim what nothing last,
Not even to mourn a fight…
What point is it all to mourn,
When starved out no more feelings?
What left of lovers to scorn,
Of the lovers lost dealings?
Dare you ask my soul complete,
Where here lost my lover sweet?

I dwell in your
eyes
like it is my home,

You remain in my
heart
as you own.

I woke to find
Everything packed away—
Carpets rolled up,
Bare floorboards
Revealed for the first time.

No one around,
My footsteps made
A strange
Sound

Then Gran came in.
"Your mummy and daddy
Aren't getting along."
This truth,
I learned too late,
Kept from me
Until this morning.

A day my mind
Will never forget,
A secret now
Unfolded.

We traveled to the new town,
My face
Wore
A
Frown.

The door slammed shut
Too quickly,
A bad case
Of homesickness.
What was severed
Now crystallized.

Now,
I never fail
To remember
Every
Detail.

Her eyes are poetry and a blink of her eyes is a poem.
Her voice is poetry and each of her words is a poem.
Her thinking is poetry and each of her thoughts is a poem.

My love for her is poetry and each of my expressions for her is a poem.
My care for her is poetry and each of my suggestions for her is a poem.
My desire for her is poetry and each expression of my romance for her is a poem.

Our mutual attraction is poetry and each of our confessions to one another is a poem.
Our eternal relationship is poetry and each of our manifestations for one another is a poem.
Our way of talking to each other is poetry and each of our conversations with one another is a poem.