you told me you could never be a poet
but
my eyes are like cats eye marbles
and
im a reminder of flower fields
at night
fireflies dancing between
strands of grass
and
dandelions
you used to write me poetry
with verses of
"i love you"
and
"see you tomorrow"
but
you told me you could never be a poet

i’m tired of writing these poems
tired of chasing the right words
for a feeling that never wanted to be named

tired that nothing i write
comes close to the way it felt
to love you
and lose you
and still carry it all

no stanza, no line,
no late night whisper into the void
has ever been enough

the love i have for you
deserves more than language
and yet
language is all i have

The Grave.
Each and every one of us was put on this earth to fulfill a purpose.
No matter what color or  creed  we were uniquely and beautifully designed by the potter.
But the grave becomes the  victor as many life's  come to an end,too many stories never told ,wasted talents , visions lost and swallowed up by the grave.

All we need is darkness
for the natural selection of light
I watch the past as a travel show
the necessity or adversity ignites language,
different shapes of games, we like the power plays
of circle
let me be sealed in a wave
I want to descend to the faith of sand
to the Cro-Magno vision of words

When the world appears in shades of gray,  
Spread joy in every possible way.  
A kind word, perhaps a smile,  
Can make a heart dance for a while.

Our spirits shine through simple acts,  
A loving touch, a friendly pact.  
Make the world your cherished friend,  
Share laughter, and a helping hand.

With open hearts and open minds,  
Let’s embrace all the goodness we find.  
In every moment, large and small,  
Spreading joy lifts us all.

How can the world say
That your heart isnt for me?
I feel your love every morning
I'm resting my head on this faith
And I bet my life on your grace

I think I’ll write
another poem
&
name it after you
use words that still confuse me
& then
use them like they’re glue
throw lids on my good mornings
all misread and reused
pretend every day is Sunday
sleep in &
come to
I’m
driving myself crazy
play the same songs
and peruse
the head I use to love you &
the bones inside me too
I will not rush it like tomorrow
won’t try to
burn a tiny wick
still I just
fall asleep to you
writing a poem like
a wish

Believe it or not -

I gather you do.

I’m fueling, a growing fire

which burns bright
and gold.

Since my shy heart,

loves beauty

for it, is all of you.

A glowing sun,

playful and greedy,

as I.