She was the moon
then the sun rose,
daylight looked on,
as he buried away
his dear prose,
a grave to mourn?
or a seed was sown?
She was the winter
then the sun rose,
all the blood bled,
all the tears shed,
manured into the land,
on which they both wed,
and in the deep ends lied
his dear prose.

Early in the morning,
Laying in bed,
light washing over me,
thoughts floating in my head.

Wondering what it’d be like,
Doubt seeps like morning glow.
What could I say to him?
What might he never know?

- Lost in Translation

"A lifetime spent with you will never be long enough"

"Let's start with forever."

Monetarily I am okay,
Physically I am defeated
Mentally I am doing my best.
3/6/2021

the roses are dead
the violets are too
if you want to join them
i'll come with you

in art, there is a study of chiaroscuro
dark versus light a contrast so beautiful

you, you are what they say is dark
you are curt and hard headed
thick skinned protecting a big heart
they say i am light
optimistic and light-hearted
an open heart protecting a broken one
the light and the dark dance
a beautiful composition of chiaroscuro