I like to lay in the bed that smells of us
where I'm losing my sadness in idle days
when spring means nothing,
when the walk in the endless garden is no longer a purpose,
cherry blossoms distract my empty eyes,
instead of sketching a smile my eyes hit the ground
the green grass screams at me and wants to chase away the gray,
then I talk to heaven,
I look for the sun that seems hidden for an eternity,
the singing of the birds, a tortuous composition is bothering me now,
but sadness has its beauty
I feel it in a subtle silence
and I search where there is nothing left, for healing...

A timble of breath
spills with her "yes"
eyes respond honestly
yet
edged with a trickle of nervousness
as her fingers trace
contours of flesh
along forearm and bicep then leap to cup
nape of neck
and lure tentative steps between distance of our lips. And lids close out the rest
as the kiss inhales a timble of my breath

Her side of the bed's
warm as a hug
she just left for work
closing the door like a book
I'll later pick up
and lose myself in
in the pages of her return.
For our lives are written
one little word at a time,
line by line,
chapter after chapter.

If I had to,
My heart could single yours out,
Hidden in a stadium full of hearts,
Mine could single yours out,
The invisible thread that joins us,
The thread that only I can see,
I wrap around my hands,
Bringing me ever closer to you,
With each wrap and entwine,
Regardless of the cross words we had,
Or the debate we just had,
You, underneath a mountain of coats,
I could single you out,
That.... that is soul connection my love....
That is us..