crawling up a mountainside,
filled with certain dread.
knowing that a misstep,
will probably leave me dead.
that’s what writing feels like,
from inside my head.

falling from an airplane,
a pack upon my back.
in love with total weightlessness,
without a single lack.
that’s what writing feels like,
when everything’s on track.

finding the tiny pieces
  of the broken vase
putting them back together
  with nothing out of place
would be altogether simpler
  easier by far
then wrestling the decision
  entangling my heart

What does it mean
  when someone appears
    surrounded by a glow?

What can you do
  when you can't stop thinking
    about someone you know?

Would you know your soul mate
if she tripped in to your life?
Would you give up everything
to see her by your side?
Making tough decisions
will always cause some pain.
So live and risk rejection
or die silent once again.

You cannot ride the rapids
afraid to rock the boat.
You can't aim for the bleachers
if you're too afraid to choke.
A life under the radar
may seem safe and secure.
But is it truly living
when only fear's endured?

I truly can't imagine
   how dull life must have been
      before the art of writing
         gave advent to the pen
How did the hapless poet
   recharge his weathered soul?
      What outlet had the writer
         stuck in that bookless hole?

One more time.
Just one.
Just one more chance
to remember
how it felt
and I'll never ask
for anything again.
Ever!
Except for one more time.

miscommunication based on fear
destroyed the fragile buds
of friendship
or more

what was once a smile
so bright and so warm
is now a look
of sadness

losing the opportunity
to show the depths
of my sincerity
physically hurts

so I pretend like all is well
like nothing happened
and save my tears
for when I'm alone