softly the moon rests in the sky
it is still, yet wandering with its mysticism.
when you begin to lose yourself in its charm,
you find yourself enchanted by its light,
entranced by its beauty
and hypnotized by its glow.

such a feeling happened to me once before,
it was soft
warm,
the feeling in my veins
didn't rush,
they didn't ache or show pain.
for once, I welcomed the utter feeling of
being driven insane.

perhaps I was too young to call it so,
maybe it was too soon to say
that,
childish as it seems
I sort of liked him
just maybe not the same way.

clouds can change as feelings do right?
so puffy and unpredictable,
deceiving at first
simply the worst thing imaginable
when taken the wrong way.

I do like him, yet my heart craves for another
that iridescent moon
so hypnotic that it draws me closer
I watch our love grow like the cherry blossoms
in late spring.

this other interest, think of him as the little owl
so cute,
so full of mystery
it's interesting to see its development,
to watch it spread its wings.
you cannot help but wonder
and love from afar.

I sit in the sky's infinite pool
of stars and constellations,
with pure love for its wonder and beauty
complete adoration,
but sometimes, I must embrace
the warmth in my face
chills down my spine
with which the little owl makes my heart
sing its eternal tune
just one more time.

I still see that version of you.
That one night by the water.
I wish I could live it through once more,

Because if I could,
I’d make it last a little longer.

Getting on towards midnight,
my buddy signaled time for bed,
I let him outside and joined him there,

The stars were resplendent in their
clear heavenly glow, the moon
painted back lighted silhouettes upon
the lawn and shrubs, a gentle fresh
breeze chased the remaining 90+ heat
of the day away, musically rustling
leaves of the yard trees as it passed
through headed East.

The Orchestra of  tiny creatures in the
orchard and grass, were busily playing
their rhythmic nightly concerto, in perfect
harmony,  like the very heart beat of the
earth on which they abound in their vast
multitudes, echoing their celebration of life.

The garden fountain bubbled it's soothing
water sounds adding it's voice to the pleasant
cacophony of collective night music.

I was lulled into submission as the breeze
and the mood embraced me, and fell asleep
in the old comfy Mission chair from my den.,
now relegated to porch duty, My dog resting
in that chairs twin, beside me.

Around three AM the full moon rounded the
house and peeked under the porch, lighting
me up like an impertinent cop's flashlight.
Encouraging us to move on.

Tucker and I did then retire to our beds inside ,
blissfully at peace with the world outside.

"To sleep perchance to dream" ah, but there
is no "rub" here. . . Only peace and tranquility.

in the middle of the night,
where the moon plays
a game of tag with the daylight
I lie in bed thinking of how much I hate how I appear to you.
sweet,
subtle,
submissive and slow
as the gentle kisses once delivered to you.
it pains me to think that
midnight blues
turn into shades of charcoal gray
when I think of your impression of me.
it is asymmetrical,
a puzzle piece that does not fit
to think that the words
so simple
so basic slip past your
peach colored lips,
"you cannot do ****."
misconstrued, I know
given in an improper way
but it wrestles within me
like demons
kept in their cages another day.
my capabilities are limited
to things humane
but am I that useless
to the point
that I am poison
to your veins?
do I make you angry?
do I make you weep?
are the demons in you
injecting their rage
into your skin with every word
that I am to say?
should I react,
or perhaps
I am to behave
like the little girl I once was...
scared,
cold
fear of what to say
disapproval so close to the corner
that any word slipped through my mouth
felt like an eternal mistake.

summer breeze,
the way she once looked me
with delight and tease
only grows
as the wind does,
come and go as you please.
the gentle wind
it flows through me
like memories
of our chats together.
something about her,
as though some power
held over me...
she makes me feel better.
a penny for her thoughts
a mile for touch
that summer breeze worth chasing
for I enjoy the rush.

blissful meadow,
a calming shadow,
my inner happiness.
your words like flowers
the river flowing upstream
for when life feels numb
surrounded by a sheet of darkness.

I walk through your fields
as you feel my presence,
the combination shocking
the result an essence
no true emotion can yield
to.
the kinds of things
you and I have been through
it's astonishing
that we're still present here:
introverts
in our over-sized hoodies
in a small-minded
extroverted world
instead of floating out
into the vast
atmosphere.

Why do we keep doing this?
I think it's time that I gave up.
I really truly do love you,
but it seems you don't give a f....
If you don't want to stay,
well then maybe you should leave.
Because with each betrayal,
"I love you" gets harder to believe.
And no that's not what I want for us,
but I won't sit watch you cheat.
So if you're not able,
to be honest with me,
then I think it's best if you leave.
The ominous and growing feeling,
I have deep in my chest.
Says that us together
probably isn't for the best.
There are things I don't understand,
like what is it that's wrong with me?
cuz you wouldn't want to f..... everyone else,
if I was "so ****"
And maybe you'd want to spend your time,
with me instead of just them.
If I still wore a smile all the time,
as I did way back then.
What I need you to understand is,
I didn't make that smile fade.
What stopped me from being happy,
was the choices you chose to make.
And maybe if you were sorry,
and never did it again,
then I'd be more comfortable
and could trust you once again.
But trust was broken so many times,
probably way too many.
I don't know if the trust is still possible,
I don't believe you deserve any.
Everyone has patterns,
of behaviour that they do.
Yours seems to be lying to me,
and mine sadly is loving you.

I am a painter,
not a poet.
Painting with an alphabet brush.

Colors only you can see –
red to you
is different to me.

A Mona Lisa smile
might be a frown,
when written down.

I do not write
to make you see
my world as I see it.

I paint with words
what you already know
but don’t know how to say it.

freshly fallen snow,
the area around her whistles with
a winter's wind.
walking along the forest
seeing the words you say
cover the floor,
a blanket of frost
growing cold.

within the summer's gust
of heat and distress
I feel your love
my honor
your trust
slowly dying, I confess
to you without
the help of what comes from above
you will cease to exist.

within the spring's breeze
my heart never put at ease
thinking your words,
so simple
so sweet
misunderstanding and tease
me until I am no longer pleased.
as the thought slips past your lips
I feel my chest tighten
compression,
repression of the accused
obsession over you.

perhaps it is my fault,
to fall so far,
in the season's beauty
buried in the ground where
the leaves are.
my greatest regret,
trying to heal your upset
to only awaken
an anger
a pain
a personal disdain
strong enough
leaving a
friendship severed.

I am the daisy,
growing in the shade
fighting the frost
you caused
without there being love lost
the history of us
through the fields of distrust
I try my hardest
to prevent sudden pause.

I didn't do this,
my plan not to turn you away,
to console you my frost
and perhaps try too much
for a simple touch
of sunshine smiles to make you stay.
instead I lie,
in the fields of July,
the chill of your frost
as the wind carries
autumn leaves by
waiting for the daisies of spring
to gently pull me in
to the soil,
for the final rest.